


At the End of the Day

by armlessphelan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Hipsters, Coffee Shops, F/F, F/M, Hipsters, M/M, Twentysomethings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 76,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armlessphelan/pseuds/armlessphelan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just supposed to be a night out with friends. Instead, Scott found himself falling in love with a perfect stranger, Stiles catches the eye of two very different suitors, and Allison starts to break out of her box. It all gets worse from there.</p><p>Otherwise known as the one where, instead of werewolves, everyone is hipsters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The band was well into its second song and Scott still hadn't shown up. Allison looked at Stiles and shrugged. If her ex couldn't be bothered to show up, she couldn't be bothered to care. He was the one who asked her to hang out. Being friends who used to have benefits was his idea, not hers.

"So, they're good, huh?" Stiles asked as the saxophone solo began.

Not answering, Allison closed her eyes and let the colours of the music punctuate the darkness beneath her eyelids. It really was good music. Fantastic, even. She loved jazz, and she loved that Beacon Hills had an underground jazz club. Really, it was quite the quite the mystery how she had never heard of it before.

“I'm gonna get something to eat, you want anything?” Allison asked Stiles as she opened her eyes and stared at the violin player onstage. Long, blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail that hung over her shoulder.

“Sure,” Stiles nodded as he leaned over and pulled out his wallet. “Can you get me an espresso macchiato?”

“I'll get it,” Allison assured Stiles as she pushed away the five dollar bill he held out to her. “You paid the cover fee. It's the least I can do.”

She walked away and retrieved her own wallet. As she waited at the counter to order, she tapped her foot in tune with the sad cello melody being played. Her phone began vibrating in her jacket pocket, and she pulled it out to see that it was Scott calling. Excusing herself from the barista who had come to take her order, Allison stepped back from the counter.

“This had better be good. You're twenty minutes late,” Allison chastised before Scott could get a word out.

The first thing she heard on the other end of the call was a throat being cleared. “Yeah, about that, I can't make it. One of the RNs had to leave, so I got drafted into staying until they can call someone in. Sorry.”

“I'll let Stiles know,” Allison sighed. Legitimate excuses made it hard to be mad at him. “Any idea when you'll be off?”

“Not a clue. I'm definitely gonna miss the show, though. If they have CDs available, can you get me one that's signed? I'll pay you back,” Scott requested.

“I'll see what I can do,” Allison answered halfheartedly. Scott excused himself and hung up. Allison put her phone back in her coat and stepped back up to the counter where the barista waiting with his arms crossed. “I'm sorry about that...” she glanced at his nametag, “Derek. I didn't wanna be that customer who talks on the phone while making an order.”

“Apology accepted,” he smiled. “What can I get for you? Most folks here have a regular, but you and your friend are new.”

“An espresso mocchiato for my friend, and I'll try the cafe breve.” Allison pulled her debit card out of her wallet and flashed it at him. “You guys do take plastic, right?”

“We accept cash, debit, or credit,” Derek told her as he wrote down her order and punched some numbers into his register. “Which are you paying with?”

“Debit,” Allison clarified as she handed him her card. He slid it through a card reader and directed her to a keypad where she could enter her pin. “So, what's the name of the band playing?”

“They're a jazz trio, not a band,” Derek corrected as Allison's receipt printed. “And they call themselves 'The Betas'. I have no idea why, before you asked.”

Derek grabbed a pen on scratched something on the back of Allison's receipt before handing it to her. “If you'd give that to your friend, I'd appreciate it. Your order should be done in a couple of minutes.”

“Thanks.” Allison took the receipt and dropped a few ones into his tip jar. She returned to her seat, scanning the back of it as she sat down. Grinning, she looked at Stiles and showed him the digits. “Look at that.”

“The barista gave you his phone number?” Stiles said as he took the receipt from her hand. “Did you forget that the reason you and Scott broke up is because you're gay?”

“First, he's not just a barista, he's a cute barista. And second, he didn't give me his number, he's giving you his number,” Allison laughed as she shook her head and tried not to stare at the blonde violin player again.

Stiles straightened his back and looked over at the counter, where Derek was busy making their drinks. “Okay, he's not cute, he's hot. Also, I'm straight.”

“Stiles, you are not straight. Or did you forget that time you dated that Tyler guy?”

“It was online dating, and I was curious,” Stiles reminded Allison. “Do you not remember how it ended?”

“I remember you flying out to Virginia to spend a week with him and coming back complaining about how lousy he was in bed. You know, being bisexual is okay. You don't have to pick one or the other,” Allison teased as she playfully pushed her friend. “Now go up there, get my coffee, and get yourself a date. It's fairly pathetic how you haven't been dating anyone but internet boy since Lydia dumped you.”

“We were together for six months, Allison,” Stiles sighed as he stood up.

“And it was two years ago. Now go,” she ordered before turning her attention back to the music. Mostly, her attention was on the woman playing the violin. The other two members of the band, a blond white sax player and the black guy on the cello, they were pretty good, but the third member of their trio was definitely something special.

The song ended and the man on the cello announced that the band was taking a short interlude, and the ten or so patrons in the club offered applause. The two guys walked off stage and headed to the counter where Stiles was flirting with the barista, but the violin player took Stiles' vacated seat next to Allison.

“Erica Reyes,” she offered as she sat her violin on the table. She held her hand out and Allison shook it.

“Allison Argent,” the brunette girl smiled. “You're really quite good.”

“I just do my best to keep up with Isaac and Boyd,” Erica claimed humbly. “I noticed you watching me.”

Allison could feel her face getting hot as she blushed. She also noticed that Erica was still holding her hand. “Yeah, well...” There were no words coming to her mind that would be any less awkward than silence. “Thanks?”

“I should be thanking you,” Erica laughed as she leaned forward to rub the top of Allison's hand with her free one. “Most people that come to our shows are only in it for the cute boys, if any come at all.”

“How do you know I'm not one of them?” Allison wondered as she looked into Erica's surprisingly expressive eyes.

“Because you're making a point of not staring at my boobs,” Erica noted as she bit her bottom lip seductively. “Our gig ends at ten, if you wanna do something after. I mean, it looks like your date is kinda busy.”

“Stiles? He's just a friend,” Allison said as she turned around and saw him talking to Derek, completely ignoring her coffee. “And yeah, I think that would be fun.”

“Groovy!” Erica exclaimed as she jumped in her seat. Allison finally found herself unable to look away from Erica's boobs. “Well, this talk has been great, but I kind of have to get back onstage, Allison Argent.”

“You do that, Erica Reyes,” Allison replied as Erica released her hand and picked up the violin.

The other two members of the trio joined Erica back on the stage. A couple minutes later, Stiles brought Allison her coffee. It was still warm, but it wasn't hot. She drank it anyway. “So?”

“So what?” Stiles scoffed as he sipped his espresso and crossed his legs.

“When is the date?” she pressed as she leaned into her chair and set her coffee on the table. Her eyes were focused on watching Erica's fingers dance on the violin's strings.

“What makes you think there's a date?” Stiles wondered aloud as he adamantly refused to look at Allison.

Smirking, Allison turned from Erica to her friend. “Well, you aren't claiming heterosexuality anymore, so there's that. What are you and the hot barista doing, and when are you doing it?”

“Where going to his sister Cora's gallery showing. I guess she's a photographer or something.”

“Meeting the family on the first date? Well, this is moving fast. I imagine the wedding will be at the end of the month?” Stiles grinned at Allison's teasing and shook his head at her. “We so have to tell Scott about your new fiance!”

“You are such a dork.”

“True,” Allison agreed as she ran a hand through her hair. “But if I'm a dork, what does that make you, oh master of PC adventure games from the 90s?”

“A nerd with a date with a really hot guy, while you're single and jealous?” Stiles laughed.

Her eyes flicking back to Erica, Allison gave Stiles a simple smile. “Joke's on you, because I have a date tonight. With someone even hotter than your barista.”

“When did this happen?” Stiles inquired as his attention focused solely on Allison. “Because, and I could be mistaken, but you didn't mention anything about a date when we first met here.”

“About the same time you landed the barista,” Allison answered as she looked at Erica again. Erica offered Allison a small smile, but she couldn't manage anything more.

“She is hot,” Stiles claimed with a nod.

“I told you,” Allison agreed as she crossed her arms in triumph.

“But mine is hotter,” Stiles challenged.

“In your dreams.”

TW

“So, what is there to do in Beacon Hills?” Erica asked Allison as they walked out of the club. They watched as Boyd and Isaac loaded everything into the back of a van across the street.

“Are you going to help us?” the black guy shouted at Erica as he picked up her violin.

“It looks like you have it under control, Boyd!” Erica shouted back as she wrapped herself around Allison's arm. “I'll meet you guys at the motel, okay?”

“You aren't local?” Allison asked as she and Erica started walking down the street. Stiles was still in the club, flirting with his new barista.

“We're not far, but we only ever come to Beacon Hills to play. And we normally don't stay in town, but our place is being fumigated because our landlord sucks,” Erica explained as they waited at a crosswalk.

“So, is your band the only way you guys make money, or do you have day jobs?” Allison wondered as she tried to not pay too much attention to the fact that a hot blonde was literally hanging onto her. “I mean, you guys are great, but this is California, not New Orleans. Jazz isn't that big here.”

“Boyd is a secretary at some law firm, Isaac works fast food, and I'm kind of between gigs, so to speak,” Erica answered with a shrug. “I was working for this copy place, but folded a couple months ago and it's hard to find a job. Even in retail. What about you?”

Allison tilted her head and tapped her feet, waiting for the crosswalk light to turn white. “I used to work for my dad, family business and all, but then I came out and my mom made him fire me. Now I'm the janitor for the local public radio station. Pay is crap, but the benefits are decent.”

“Ooh, lady janitor? Hot,” Erica cooed as the light finally changed and they crossed the street. “Where are we going?”

“I don't really know,” Allison admitted. “I was kinda hoping I'd have figured something out by now. What did you want to do? You wanna get something to eat? There's a 24 hour diner that's a few blocks in the other direction. The coffee is awful, but the food is great if you don't mind diabetes.”

“Works for me. Everything I eat goes to my boobs, anyway,” Erica bragged with a chuckle. “Does this place serve poultry? Because I'm a pescetarian and am craving some right now.”

“They might?” Allison wasn't sure. “It's a little greasy spoon type place with an all day breakfast menu, so I just go whenever I want to pig out on pancakes or whatever. They offer turkey sausage as part of the 'healthy foods' menu, so it's possible.”

As they turned around and headed in the direction of the diner, Allison's phone began ringing. It was Scott again. “Sorry, I've gotta take this. It's my ex.”

Erica nodded and watched Allison's face. They continued walking.

“Hello, Scott,” Allison sighed into her phone. “I forgot to see if they had CDs. Sorry.”

“Aw, man,” Scott whined into the phone. “That sucks, but it's not why I'm calling. I just got off work and was wondering if you and Stiles needed a ride home. I tried calling him first, but he didn't answer.”

“You take the bus to work, how are you gonna give me a ride?” Allison chortled. “And, unlike you, Stiles and I are spending the evening socializing with new people. As in right now.”

“One of my bosses gave me cab money from petty cash as a thank you for staying over. The buses don't come by the hospital after ten, so it was either that or walk.”

“And you didn't want to walk home in vomit-covered scrubs? How refreshing,” Allison said as she mouthed an apology to Erica, who just shrugged nonchalantly in reply. “I'm on a date, Scott. Thanks for thinking of me, but I don't need a ride. And I think the same goes for Stiles.”

“Alright, I'll see you at home,” he said with a sigh.

“See you at home,” Allison repeated before hanging up, powering her phone down, and turning her attention back to Erica. “Sorry about that. Roommates. You know how it goes.”

“Roommate? I thought he was your ex?” Erica tilted her head and looked up at Allison. “Look, I'm the last person to judge anyone for having an open relationship, but you've at least gotta be honest about it.”

Allison laughed loudly, and someone threw open a window above a boutique that had closed for the day. Then the person yelled at her to shut up because it was late. In response, Allison flipped him the bird and continued on with Erica, albeit a little quieter.

“He is my ex. High school sweetheart, actually. We moved in together with his best friend, Stiles, that guy I was with at the club. It was after high school, and I spent a couple semesters at college. I was studying feminist literature and bingo, I figured out I'm a lesbian. So we broke up, I was too poor to move out, and we got over it and stayed friends.

“It's been like that for the last four years, to be honest.”

Throwing a hand out to stop Allison from walking in front of a car that was running a red light, Erica raised both of her eyebrows and whistled.

“That is one of the most cliche things I have ever heard. Feminist literature? All these college lesbians, I swear.”

“What? You came out in high school and dated the head cheerleader?” Allison challenged with an easy laugh. She liked talking to Erica. It wasn't strained at all.

“Junior high, and I hung out with the stoners. Then we formed a band. The lesbian clique didn't like me because I still like dick,” Erica said with a roll of her eyes. “And yes, my high school did have a lesbian clique. California and all that.”

“So you're bi?” Allison asked uncomfortably.

“Is that a problem?” Erica eyed Allison suspiciously.

“Not with me. Stiles, my friend from the club, he's bi, too. Or something. He can't make up his mind what he is, to be honest.” It was Allison's turn to shrug as they began crossing the street. “I'm more of a 'whatever makes you happy' kind of gal. No sense in getting mad over something like that.”

“How mature of you,” Erica said honestly. “I'm sick of everyone thinking I'm bi just because it's trendy. And, honestly, I'm sick of this conversation. Can we talk about something else? Like how pretty you are?”

Allison stopped and Erica started playing with her hair. Suddenly, Allison was glad she'd taken that shower before leaving. “We're here.”

With a sweeping hand gesture, Allison showed off the run down diner. It was every bit the 1950s cliched eatery, and it looked like the 50s was the last time it had been cleaned.

“Wow, this is something,” Erica blinked, her fingers tangled in Allison's hair mid-stroke. “Like, wow. These places still exist?”

“The food is good,” Allison shrugged as she shook her hair free of Erica's hand and opened the door. A bell overhead tinkled, alerting the staff to their presence. The staff, though, consisted of one angry looking middle-aged waitress and one tired young cook.

“Table or booth?” the waitress, whose name tag read “Eve”.

Acquiescing to Erica, Allison let her companion make the decision. They were seated at a table and given menus.

“What can I get you to drink?” Eve asked as the two with an air of disinterest.

“I'll take a lemonade,” Allison ordered as she opened the menu.

“Can I get water with a lemon wedge?” Erica inquired. Eve just stared at her. “Forget the lemon wedge. I'll just have ice water.”

“I'll come back in a bit and see if you're ready to order,” Eve told them as she walked away to get their drinks.

“We could have been ready to order now,” Erica muttered as she opened her menu.

Smiling, Allison opened her own menu. She had said the food was good. The quality of the service was never mentioned.

“I'm gonna get the pancakes. It's a staple of the local small business experience,” Allison shrugged, revelling in her dietary blandness. “What looks good to you?”

“How is the fish dinner?” Erica wondered as she looked up from her menu and into Allison's eyes. There was an unmistakably filthy grin on her face.

TW

It was baffling. Scott had paid for a ride home, but his cabbie had both dropped him off at the wrong place and refused to give him his change. Allison had shut her phone off, and Stiles still wasn't answering. So Scott did the sensible thing and started asking complete strangers for directions.

That was how he found The Girl.

“Let me walk you home. It's not safe to be alone on the streets at night,” she told Scott as she traced his jawline with a dark finger and pushed him against a light pole. “Where are you headed?”

“I'll be fine. I just need directions to Hachiko Avenue,” Scott protested as The Girl licked her lips and eyed him.

“Hachiko? Dude, that's on the other side of town. How did you get here?” she backed off and pulled out her phone. Her index finger danced on the screen. “Hmm, looks like it's only ten miles away. That's only a couple hours walking. I could keep you company.”

“I'm fine. Really.”

“If you say so,” she shrugged as she began to walk away. Scott's eyes lingered on the back of her head before he changed his mind.

“Okay!” he yelled as he ran to catch up with her. “I would be glad to have your company. My name is Scott.”

“Good to meet you, Scott,” she offered with a handshake. “I don't want to come off as a manic pixie dream girl or anything, but I kind of am. Except I have a life outside making you happy.”

“I don't know what any of that means,” Scott blinked in reply. But thanks for the company?”

“Actually, you're keeping me company now, Scrubs.”

“It's Scott,” he corrected with a confused smile. The girl was intriguing. A little crazy and there was a likely possibility that she'd hack him up into little pieces and cook him on the grill, but still intriguing. “And you are?”

“I'm calling you Scrubs,” she laughed as she tugged at Scott's work apparel. “You don't get to know my name. Not yet. Now are you a doctor, a nurse, or an orderly?”

“I could be an escaped mental patient,” he suggested in what he hoped was a sly manner. The last thing he wanted was to be creepy. “That is a joke, of course. I swear. I'm a nurse. LPN, to be specific.”

“You play all your cards way too soon. This is gonna be fun.” The girl grabbed Scott by the wrist and looked at her phone. “Map says to go this way. You can look at it yourself if you want.”

Looking at the dark streets and weighing his options, Scott took the phone and glanced at it. The map she had pulled up was correct.

“You must be new to town to get lost this easily,” she said to Scott when he handed her back the phone. “Why didn't you just grab a cab?”

“I did. He ripped me off. It's fine, though, because I have his license plate number. His ass is mine when I get home,” Scott bragged as they began walking. “Since I'm not allowed to know your name, what can I call you?”

She just smiled and didn't say anything. Instead, she reached into Scott's jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. “I don't wanna use up my battery. What do you have on here?”

“What are you doing?” Scott wasn't amused as he reached for his phone. The girl let go of his wrist and danced just out of his reach.

“There are a lot of classical music songs on here. Dude, Scrubs, are you going all pretentious on me?” she began playing something from Beethoven, but Scott was too annoyed to pay attention to just what. “Calm down, I'll give it back. It's just that you need a soundtrack for things like this. And you really don't have the music to pull it off.”

“Forgive me for being cultured,” Scott groused as he took his phone back and stopped the music. “Do you know what boundaries are? Because you seem to have a penchant for crossing them.”

“Chill out, Scrubs, you're acting like I tried to steal your phone and no such thing happened. I'm just trying to lighten the mood and you're being an asshole. Why am I even bothering? You aren't all that cute?” She waved goodbye to Scott and started to walk away.

“I'm sorry!” he yelled after her, even though he had no idea what he was apologizing for.

“Yeah,” she agreed as she looked back at him, “You are, Scrubs. You need to learn to be nicer.”

Scott smiled at her and took a step forward. She didn't step back, so he took it as a sign to continue. “Yeah, I guess I do. It's been a not great night. Sorry.”

“You already apologized.”

“I know, but I thought it needed to be said again?” Scott wasn't sure that what he was saying even made sense. He wasn't even sure why he gave a damn if this woman walked away. “I'm sorry, Elise.”

“Who is Elise?” she asked as she tilted her head and looked into Scott's eyes.

He smiled again and walked past her. Then he stopped, turned around, and held his hands out. “Well, I have to call you something since you won't tell me your name. And that song you played that you didn't like? It was 'Fur Elise'. Therefore, I'm calling you Elise. Would you still like to escort me home?”

“Sure,” she answered warily before taking Scott by the arm. “It's not safe out here for a pretty little thing like you to be walking around alone. You never know what dangers are lurking in the shadows.”

TW

The was still open, but the band he'd come to see had already been gone for ages. Stiles stayed not for the coffee, though it was good, but instead for the conversation. This barista, this Derek, it was easy to talk with him. Even though they had nothing to talk about.

“Yeah, those guys from the jazz group, The Betas, they don't exactly get paid for performing here,” Derek answered when Stiles wondered how much a gig was worth. “They get tips and album sales, but we have an agreement that they get to perform whenever they want and I don't pay. All they have to do is make sure we haven't booked anyone else first.”

“Do you ever book anyone else?” Stiles asked as he picked a blueberry out of his day-old muffin and popped it into his mouth. “I mean, I just found out about this place tonight, so I don't exactly know the status quo.”

“Believe me, I would've remembered seeing you around before,” Derek smirked as he wiped the counter with a wet rag. Stiles lifted his plate and coffee mug so the barista could clean. “And we don't normally book people. Beacon Hills isn't exactly known for its thriving music scene.”

“Preach it, Sister!” Stiles laughed as he set his coffee and plate back onto the table. “How long have you been open, anyway? I thought I knew all the places in town.”

“About six months. My uncle opened it with no business plan, and we were about to close down until my sister turned things around. She's studying to be a marketing whiz or something. All I know is, she kept talking about social media and underground marketing and here we are. The trio that came out tonight actually went to high school with her.”

“Fascinating,” Stiles half lied as he peeled off a hunk of muffin and rolled it between his fingers. “So, you guys have, like, Twitter and stuff?”

“Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr, all that stuff. She's always showing off pictures of the food and drinks and customers. Some of them are going to be in her gallery showing, actually. I just come in and bake the stuff in the morning, and serve it at night,” Derek answered before interrupting the conversation to take another customer's order. Stiles crammed his muffin ball into his mouth.

Stiles really was curious as to how Scott had learned about this place, and why he'd never told anyone about it until now. The atmosphere, even sans live music, was aloof. It was nice. Derek was nice.

“So, you guys have a family business?” Stiles asked before taking a drink of his coffee. “We don't have too many of those in town anymore.”

“If by family business you mean my uncle and me being the only full-time employees and Cora pitching in whenever she feels like it, then yeah. We're a family business.” Derek leaned on the counter and flashed his teeth at Stiles in a wide grin. “What about you? What do you do?”

Mumbling his answer, Stiles felt his face grow hot. “I'm an assistant manager at Taco Bell.”

“Corporate AND competition? Whatever have I gotten myself into?” Derek teased. He ran his tongue along the front of his top set of teeth.

“You have no idea,” Stiles agreed nervously as he pushed his plate to Derek. “Want some?”

“Can't eat on the clock,” Derek declined as he pushed the plate back. “Besides, I'm more of a strawberry guy.”

Reaching his his back pocket, Stiles produced his wallet and pulled three dollar bills out of it and handed them to Derek. “I'll take a strawberry muffin, then. Keep the change and maybe consider taking a break?”

“You are clever,” Derek complimented as he rang up Stiles' order and then plopped a strawberry muffin on his plate next to the half-eaten blueberry one. “Can you give me five minutes to get my Uncle to cover me? He'll probably say no, since we close in less than an hour, but you never know.”

Nodding, Stiles smiled and took another sip of his coffee. It was already cold, but it was still drinkable. He hadn't realized he'd been nursing the same cup for an hour until Derek had disappeared behind the “employees only” door. Glancing at the time on his phone, Stiles saw it was already ten thirty.

It was really odd how someone so muscular and good looking was into a skinny twenty-something geek. Not that Stiles didn't like the attention, but after things had gone south with Lydia he'd sworn off women and decided to give men a try. Then the Tyler thing had blown up in his face and he swore off men and went back to women. Now he was flirting with what was probably the hottest guy he'd ever met. Odd was the perfect work to use.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket again, Stiles noticed he had missed calls from Scott. Checking his settings, he saw that somehow or other he'd turned his ringer off and the phone wasn't on vibrate. Stiles shrugged. It was probably just Scott calling to say that he was still working late or something. He slipped his phone back into his shirt pocket and took another drink of his cold coffee.

“Sorry about that,” Derek apologized when he returned. :I got shot down because we close at eleven. You can hang around and talk during cleanup if you want. It usually takes an hour, though, so I won't get out until midnight.”

“And what do we do after midnight?” Stiles asked without thinking. Derek's eyebrows shot up and Stiles about choked on his muffin when he realized what he said. “That so came out wrong.”

“Too bad,” Derek winked as he tore off a piece of the strawberry muffin and bit into it.

Blinking heavily, Stiles looked from the muffin to Derek and back to the muffin. “Didn't you just tell me you couldn't eat on the clock, good sir?”

“I won't tell if you won't. And none of this 'Sir' stuff. I doubt I'm that much older than you,” Derek objected before taking another bite out of his muffin. “I mean, you're, what, twenty-eight?”

“Twenty-three,” Stiles corrected, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Did he really look five years older than he actually was? “You?”

“Oh, wow,” Derek scratched the back of his neck as he looked up at the ceiling before answering, “I'm actually thirty. That's cool, right?”

“It's fine,” Stiles assured Derek even though he had no idea if it was or not. He'd never considered dating someone he had an age gap with that needed to be counted on more than one hand. “Your sister's showing is Tuesday?”

“Yeah. It's in the dance studio up the street. They rent out the studio space after six, so the showing doesn't start until nine. It's nothing big, and the dress code is casual, so just show up how you are now. You'll look great.”

“Yeah. Right.” Stiles tore into the strawberry muffin and grinned at Derek's noises of protest. “What? I paid for it.”

“For me!”

“I never said that,” Stiles challenged jokingly. “I am willingly to share, though.”


	2. Chapter 2

It was incomprehensible to Scott how a simple, albeit long, walk home with a complete stranger included stopping at a convenience store that was two blocks off course. He supposed it was because she was thirsty or hungry, but they'd passed a 24 hour diner on the way to said convenience store, and Scott knew from experience that it had good food. The girl had ignored him when he tried to point it out to her.

“So, Scrubs, what do you want?” she asked him as she rifled through the sandwiches in the cooler that had likely been there for days. Victorious, she produced an egg salad sandwich and did a small victory lap around the aisle while simultaneously dancing.

Laughing as he watched her, Scott grabbed a bag of cheese doodles from a nearby shelf. Then, just so he wouldn't ruin her fun, Scott held out a hand for the girl and she took it. They began dancing together to a beat that didn't match the music playing over the PA.

“You're seriously going to eat that crap, Scrubs?” the girl asked as she snatched the snack from his hands. She tossed it back on the shelf and then grabbed his hands, placing them on her hips. “There is nothing in that stuff that exists in nature, you know. You might as well eat the plastic wrap on my sandwich.”

“What should I eat, then, oh wise one?” Scott asked as she ran her hands through his hair, the plastic wrap on her sandwich tickling his ear.

“If you insist on junk food, get the chex mix. The cheese kind, because the plain is bogus as hell,” she advised as she continued playing with his hair. Scott kept one hand on her hip as he reached up to touch her puff, but she pulled her free hand free and slapped his away. “Don't you know you're not supposed to touch a black girl's hair, Scrubs? It's, like, a Scientific Law. Like gravity.”

“Then why hasn't anyone ever told me before?” Scott asked as he put his hand back on her hip.

With a smile, she pulled her other hand out of Scott's hair and hooked them both around his neck. He could feel the cold from the sandwich against his back.

“And just how many black people do you know in your personal life?” she licked her lips and pulled Scott close. “I mean, I love me a good Latin boy every now and then, but I have a feeling you've only tasted white chocolate.”

She wasn't wrong. Frowning, Scott did realize that almost everyone in his life was white. He had black co-workers, sure, but outside of family gatherings he didn't even talk to most other Hispanic people.

“Cheer up, Scrubs. I love white people, too. You just need some colour in your life,” the girl cooed as her empty hand dropped from his neck and grabbed his ass. She raised her eyebrows at his shocked face. “Ooh, I like.”

Scott cleared his throat. He didn't say anything or attempt to move her hand.

“Are you two going to buy anything? This isn't a prom,” the cashier called to them as she tapped her watch.

“Come on, Scrubs, we're being asked to leave,” she said to Scott as she finally released his buttock and twirled out of his reach.

“Coming, Elise,” he sighed while grabbing the cheese flavoured chex mix.

After making him pay for their orders, the girl grabbed Scott by the sleeve of his top and pulled him into the middle of the street. Thankfully, there were no cars in sight. Beacon Hills tended to pretty much shut down around ten.

She wrapped one leg around Scott and used him to hold herself upright. Her fingers worked fast as she unwrapped her sandwich. Then she stuffed the plastic wrap in his pocket, her fingers lingering longer than they should but not long enough to be overly creepy.

“Remember when we talked about boundaries?” Scott asked her as he rested his arms on her shoulders and opened his snack mix behind her back.

After biting into her sandwich, she offered it to Scott. He smiled and took a bite of it. It was as stale as he was expecting, but he was happy as he chewed on the turkey and Swiss. Elise, as he was calling her, leaned back and threw the foot that was holding her up into the air. Scott caught her by dropping his bag of chex mix.

“Make it rain!” she sang to the sky as she leaned even further and reached into Scott's dropped snack and grabbed a handful. Then she threw the contents into the air. As it fell around them, she kissed Scott. He was caught off guard and didn't return it, but he was sad when it was over. “Scrubs.”

Elise free herself from his grip and took another bite from her sandwich before walking away. Scott scooped up his his chex mix before running to catch up to her.

“What was that?”

“It was called fun. You should try it sometime. You're stiff,” she told him with a mischievous grin. “Stick in the mud.”

“The last thing I am is boring,” Scott argued while circling around her until he was walking backwards and keeping her pace while looking her in the eye.

“Please, Scrubs, you get up, go to work, go home, and listen to Chopin while reading books written hundreds of years before you were born. It's cute, but dull. You don't live life, and I need a man who does.”

“So you're auditioning me?” Scott asked as he kept his ears trained for any cars coming. There were no vehicles that he could detect.

“You can call it whatever you want, I'm just being a good Samaritan and making sure you get home safe,” Elise teased. She reached out and pressed her hand against Scott's heart. He wasn't even aware of how fast it was beating until he felt her hand. Unless her touch was why his heart was racing.

“So what does that make me? The bloodied man on the side of the street?” Scott held up his bag of snack mix. Then he sung for her, even though he knew voice was awful. “Make it rain!”

The bag flew into the air, and the cereal and pretzel pieces fell down around them as he pulled her into another kiss. Her hands wandered back to his buttocks. They enjoyed the taste of each other, even as a truck rounded the corner and swerved to avoid them. They ignored the driver's yelling and blaring horn.

“You may just have some hope yet, Scrubs,” Elise congratulated proudly as she reached down and picked up the empty and discarded chex mix bag. “Now let's dispose of this properly. Littering is a crime, you know.”

TW

As soon as the club emptied, Derek pulled out a laptop from behind the counter. Stiles leaned over the counter to see what he was doing.

“Can we listen to something with an electric guitar for a change?” A man who looked to be in his 40s requested as he stepped out from behind the “employees only” section and into the club proper. “All you ever play is that mopey hipster stuff.”

“If you hate hipster music, why did you open a coffee shop?” Derek shot at the man.

Sighing, the man scratched at the scruff that covered his pale face. “Because your people will pay obscene amounts of money to ironically drink piss poor coffee.”

“It's actually pretty good,” Stiles interjected awkwardly as he held up his new coffee cup, full of the warm, brown liquid.

“You must be my nephew's new twink,” the man scoffed as he looked Stiles up and down. “Just don't make a mess.”

Derek smacked his uncle in the chest with the back of his hand. “Let me apologize for my rude as hell uncle. Peter, this is Stiles. Stiles, my Uncle Peter. He's all bark.”

“I only bite if you ask,” Peter said as he leaned into Stiles' face. Derek pulled him away and sent him off with a shove. “Fine, fine, I'll go sweep. Kids these days, never respecting their elders.”

“You'll get respect when you earn it,” Derek called to his uncle's retreating back. Then he turned his attention to Stiles. “Yeah, sorry about that. I would say he gets better, but he's kind of always like that. You get used to it, and then he does it to someone new and you realize just how awful he is. I wouldn't blame you one bit for jumping off that stool and running away.

“I should run because your uncle is kind of rude and a bit of a lech?” Stiles raised his eyebrows curiously. “Dude, my dad is the country sheriff. He's scared off a lot more people than your uncle, I'm sure.”

“The sheriff?” Derek's eyes widened a bit and he suddenly made himself busy by cleaning out the espresso machine.

“Yeah. A lot of people get like that when I mention it,” Stiles sighed as he rolled his eyes at Derek's back. Why did every person he got involved with have legal issues? The only one who didn't was Lydia. She was just a bitch. “This is why I don't date.”

“We're dating? That was fast,” Derek commented as he turned back to Stiles with one cocked eyebrow.

Stiles snorted in reply and drank his coffee without a verbal response. Ridiculous statements didn't need to be acknowledged, no matter how hot the person who made them.

The song on Derek's laptop changed from a slow instrumental number to a man singing over a solo cello. Stiles found himself swaying along with the music.

“So, Mr. Corporate Manager,” Derek voiced to Stiles while wiping down stools and turning them upside down on the counter, “you prefer lyrical music?”

“The lyrics aren't as important as the voice,” Stiles confessed as he closed his eyes and clicked his tongue in time with the cello.

Derek brushed up against Stiles while cleaning, and the younger man was shocked by how solid the body was. He knew that Derek was in good shape, but he had no idea how good. He suddenly grew self-conscious. This was why he preferred dating women. You didn't find yourself constantly comparing body types. You just appreciated them.

“Sorry,” Derek apologized as he scrubbed the stool next to Stiles. “I didn't mean to bump into you.”

“It's fine,” Stiles assured him. He'd been assuring Derek about a lot of things. It was weird. Usually, Stiles was the awkward, socially inept one, but this barista was acting like a teenager. A very suave, handsome, flirtatious teenager, but a teen nonetheless. “Believe me, I'm not gonna complain.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Derek grinned as he put the freshly cleaned stool upside down on the counter. “Did you want another muffin? Or a cookie?”

“You guys already closed, though,” Stiles pointed out unhelpfully.

“You got yourself a real genius with this one,” Peter shouted from the other side of the club. Derek threw his wet rag at him.

“Ignore him. I'll make sure to have his muzzle and leash attached at the showing,” Derek told Stiles as he walked back behind the counter. “And don't worry about paying. This stuff all gets thrown out at the end of the night, anyway, and I'd rather you get it than the group that comes through and cleans out our dumpster every night.”

“Man, dumpster diving is still a thing? I haven't done that in two years,” Stiles groaned as he remembered Lydia making him root through many a dumpster in search of clothes that she could stitch and wear. “Whatever, they aren't hurting anyone.”

“It's illegal, but I just can't muster up enough 'give a damn' to yell at them,” Derek said as he pulled a plate of cookies from the display case. There were only three left, and Stiles snagged the only one that wasn't oatmeal raisin. “I need to get the dough made up for everything tonight so it can sit out. I forgot that someone didn't make any extra last night.”

“I can help if you want,” Stiles offered as he bit into the cookie in his hand. It was a sugar cookie with lemon frosting, and it was good.

“You don't have to do that.” Derek looked at his uncle to see if he would say anything, but Peter remained silent as he turned chairs over onto tables and ran the dust mop across the floor. “It's actually getting kind of late.”

“I don't work until two tomorrow. I asked for the morning off because my friends and I were supposed to hang out together, but that clearly didn't happen,” Stiles replied with an eyeroll and an accompanying sigh. “In fact, my roommate Scott is the reason I even came out here, and he never shows.”

“Scott? Latino, shaggy hair, wears scrubs sometimes, stands about this tall?” Derek held a hand up to his chin. Stiles nodded. “Ah, he was one our first regulars. I love that guy. You have groovy friends, though I kinda wish he'd brought you out earlier. We could always use more business.”

“So he's been coming here for two months, and just now thought to invite me and our other roommate Allison? Weird.”

“If you say so. I just give him his tea and occasionally chat about what new band we found. He's been coming in a lot more since we got The Betas playing, though.” The barista looked at the stage wistfully. “I guess he's a jazz freak.”

“It's news to me,” Stiles shrugged as he stood next to Derek and looked at the stage. “Did you guys build that or did it come with the place?”

“I built it. Don't laugh, but I was hoping to have poetry slams here. Beacon Hills isn't the most literate place I've ever lived. Someday, I'd like to try it again, but maybe when I stop writing like a twelve-year-old who just found black nail polish for the first time.”

Derek walked to the sink by the espresso machine and grabbed a clean rag from a box under it.

“You write poetry? That's adorable,” Stiles mentioned as he stood on tiptoes and watched Derek bend over to pick something off the floor. “What kind? Limericks? Free form? Iambic Pentameter?”

“Just whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it rhymes, sometimes it doesn't, but it's all generally rubbish.”

“I'd like to hear it sometime. It can't be any worse than the lyrics on a Top 40 song,” Stiles said encouragingly as he walked behind the counter and knelt next to Derek. Cautiously, he put a hand on Derek's shoulder. It was nothing but muscle.

“Sure. Sometime,” Derek nodded unenthusiastically.

TW

“This fish is terrible,” Erica laughed as she pushed it away and concentrated on her side of fries. “These, however, these are great.”

“They peel the potatoes here. None of that frozen stuff,” Allison explained as she finished off her second pancake. The three pancakes for three dollars special was the main reason she had picked the restaurant. There was no need to let Erica know she wasn't totally selfless, though. “Sorry you didn't like the fish. I've never had it. Like I said, I'm addicted to the breakfast menu.”

“I really should've gotten the chicken,” Erica second-guessed verbally. She chewed on a french fry and stared at Allison. “I don't mean to make you pay for something I have no intention of eating.”

Allison held her hand up and shook her head. “It's fine. Really. If you don't like it you don't like it. I'm not gonna force you to choke down something that makes you gag.”

Shifting her eyebrows upward and grinning lewdly, Erica licked her lips. “Good to know.”

“Oh my god!” Allison choked on her pancake as Erica laughed. She reached for her glass of milk to clear her throat so she could breathe. The other patrons ignored them, as they were all either drunk or otherwise occupied.

“Too much?” Erica shifted in her chair and played with the collar of her shirt. Allison's eyes were locked onto Erica's fingers.

“Just a bit.”

“I've been told I can be a lot to handle. It's a good thing, as far as I'm concerned,” Erica bragged as she ate another french fry. “You can always jump off if the ride gets too bumpy.”

“Everything you say is a double entendre, isn't it?” Allison noted as she cut another, much smaller, piece out of her pancake. She speared it onto her fork and held it in the air. “I'm not complaining, it's just gonna take getting used to, I guess.”

“Getting used to? Girl, you barely know me, and you're acting like we're gonna go shopping for U-Haul rentals in half an hour. Lesbians, I swear,” Erica whistled lowly. “How about we ease off and at least tell each other our last names first? Erica Reyes.”

“But we already did introductions?” Allison asked in confusion. “Back at the coffee house.”

“Just do it,” Erica ordered in a sultry voice.

Finding it weird, Allison reintroduced herself while second-guessing why she thought it was a good idea to eat out with someone she didn't know. Yeah, Erica was hot, but so far she was proving to be very, very shallow. The early flirtation had obviously covered a serious lack of character.

“Are we done now?” Allison asked abruptly before stuffing her pancake into her mouth.

“Done? With what? Do you want to leave already?” Erica looked around the diner in shock. “Did you have somewhere to be?”

“This just isn't working.” Allison stood and threw a five and a twenty on the table. “That should be enough for the food and the tip. Have a good life, Erica.”

“Is this because of the sex kitten thing?” Erica's voice betrayed the hurt her face was trying to hide. “I thought people liked that.”

Allison didn't sit down, but she reconsidered walking away. “If this is another damn game...”

“I haven't played any games. I swear,” Erica pleaded with Allison as she nervously patted the table. “Well, I guess you could say the flirting thing was a game, but I wasn't being malicious. People just prefer the sexy, confident Erica.”

“And which Erica am I talking to right now?” Allison sat in the booth and leaned back against the vinyl cushion. Her arms were crossed and her jaw set.

“The insecure, nervous wreck?” Erica didn't even sound sure herself. “Like, you've only seen my stage persona. Most people only see her.”

“Then why am I not talking to her anymore?” The fact that she was even having this conversation was creeping Allison out. This was someone she'd only met that night: barely three hours. Anyone with a brain would walk away and never look back. “You have ten seconds to convince me that you aren't insane.”

“I'm epileptic and spent all of high school being the fat girl with acne nobody wanted to talk to,” Erica blurted out as she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a bracelet. She tossed it to Allison. Picking it up, Allison saw what looked like a large charm with description of what to do should Erica begin having a seizure. When she looked back up at Erica, the blonde woman was playing with her french fries.

Handing the bracelet back to Erica, Allison cleared her throat. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. It my fault,” Erica protested as she slipped her bracelet onto her wrist. “I take it off when I perform, and I didn't wanna put back it on tonight because I didn't want you to know.”

Feeling bad, Allison picked her fork back up and apprehensively poked at the remainder of her pancakes. “Why would you feel bad about that? It's a medical condition. It's not like you can help it.”

“Because kids are cruel, and adults aren't much better. I've been called 'Twitch' ever since I was twelve. Boyd and Isaac are the only ones who never cared about my condition. Being part of the low self-esteem club has its perks.”

Allison was uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat and shook her head before looking just behind Erica. “That is a lot to process. I can't imagine what you've gone through.”

“I wouldn't want you to,” Erica said quietly. “Listen, I get if you walk away. I don't want you to, but I won't be mad.”

Feeling a pang of guilt, Allison put her fork down and picked up the discarded money from the table. “Look, we'll start over. I don't want to talk to sexy, bad ass violin playing Erica. I want to talk to the one I'm talking to right now. She's much more interesting.”

TW

The thing Scott wanted to do the most was call up a new cab and just pay out of pocket to get home. The fare wasn't going to be that much. But he had to admit that he was getting to see a new side to Beacon Hills. Elise, as he was calling her, had him doing the incredibly stupid task of walking through the back alleys in the middle of the night. The smell of rotting food assaulted his nose as they passed by open dumpsters and tipped over trash cans. He almost screamed when a mouse darted across his foot.

“We're almost there, Scrubs,” Elise assured him as she slammed shut the lid of one of the dumpsters. She beckoned him over, and he gave her a boost to climb on top op it. “You're the one who said you didn't mind a detour.”

“All you've done is lead me on detours,” Scott laughed as he tried to climb onto the dumpster. The pocket of his pants caught on the lid and tore as he hoisted himself up. His phone fell out and hit the ground. The back flew off and his battery bounced into a pile of trash. “Damn it!”

With a sigh, he jumped back to the pavement and scooped up his phone and the back, but the battery was impossible to find. Also, there was a big tear in the front of his scrub bottoms. His black boxers were showing against the bright blue fabric.

“Let me make it easy on you,” Elise called to Scott as she crouched on the top of the dumpster and jumped. She caught the railing of a fire escape and climbed over until she had her feet planted. Then she let down the rusty, metal ladder. “Come on up, I'll get those fixed for you when we get there.”

“You still haven't told me where 'there' is,” he grunted as he shoved his dead phone into his other pocket and carefully climbed the ladder. He'd already had his Tetanus shot, but there were still several other things you could get from a rust scrape.

“Would you relax. A surprise is supposed to be a surprise,” she laughed as she began climbing up the fire escape. He followed her, slowly. When they reached the roof, she was standing in front of a pop-up tent with her hands held wide.

“What do you think?” Elise asked Scott as she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the tent.

“Is this where you live?” he wondered.

An annoyed look crossed her face and she rolled her eyes. “No, Scrubs. Don't be an idiot. I have an apartment, and even if I were homeless I wouldn't bring you here the first night I met you. You're cute, but you're not that cute.” She unzipped the front of the tent and climbed inside. Scott wasn't sure if he should follow or not, so he just stood outside and listened to the sounds of her scrambling around. After a few seconds, she came out bearing a portable lantern and a small boombox.

“So, what is this place, then?” Scott followed Elise to the edge of the roof where she set the boombox and turned it on. The sounds of an acoustic guitar began spilling out of the speakers. “Are the, uh, locals gonna be fine with this?”

“They don't care. I've been camping here for two years and nobody has said a thing to me.”

“You're camping out on a roof, even though we have a nature preserve just outside of town?” Scott sat by the boombox and looked at Elise with a puzzled expression.

“I prefer to look at the local wildlife. Every time I come out here, I see something new about this town I never noticed before. And I thought you might like it,” Elise told Scott as she turned on the lantern. “Now take off your pants.”

“Um, isn't it a little early for that?” he said with eyes opened wide in shock.

“So I can sew them, Scrubs. I told you I'd take care of it. If you're that nervous, you can grab the blanket in the tent to cover yourself,” Elise replied with an eyeroll as she pulled a sewing kit out of her pocket. She sat on the gravel-covered roof, legs crossed. “I always try to keep one here just in case I tear my stuff up like you did.”

“Um, I'll do that,” Scott blushed as he kicked off his shoes and headed to the tent. He reappeared a minute later with one hand holding an afghan around his waist and the other holding the bottoms of his scrubs. He handed them to Elise and sat across the lantern from her. The boombox was still playing the acoustic guitar and nothing else, but the song seemed to have changed. “Is this a CD or something?”

“Pirated radio station. There's a guy around here who runs one, but it has a super short reach. He plays his own stuff at night and shuts it down during the day. I found it a few months ago,” she answered as she looked through her spools of thread. “I don't have anything that matches. Do you want dark blue or black?”

“How about red?” He smiled and made his eyebrows dance at her.

“See, now you're getting adventurous, Scrubs,” Elise laughed as she pulled out a spool of red thread and tossed the others back into a plastic sandwich baggie. Leaning in close to the lantern, she used the blue light from the LED to thread the needle. “So, what do you think?”

“I think it would be hot during the day.” He looked around and saw that there were plants growing all around them. It was odd he hadn't noticed them before. Some were in planters, others in buckets or coffee cans. A lot of different containers. “You have a botanical garden up here?”

“You've never heard of urban greenscaping? I tend to grow a lot of things up here. That and the gravel keep it cool. It's the 'thing to do' in big cities, so I figured why not do it in Beacon Hills? We certainly have enough trash to qualify as a city.”

“Aren't you the one who was throwing food into the streets with me?” Scott challenged while Elise began sewing up Scott's pants. “Isn't that littering?”

“We were feeding the birds and rodents,” she reasoned before sticking out her tongue. “And we threw the actual wrappers into the trash, so it's fine. Besides, I tossed barely a handful. You wasted a whole bag. You need to learn restraint, Scrubs.”

“And you're the one who is gonna teach me?” he snarked with a grin.

“If you're lucky,” she teased before focusing her concentration back on the sewing.

Scott leaned back and looked up at the sky overhead. It was late and most of the town was in bed, so the light pollution was at a minimum. The moon was in a crescent and the stars twinkled around it. He'd almost forgotten that Beacon Hills actually had stars. The last time he'd actually done any stargazing, his dad was still married to his mom.

“You still don't trust me enough to tell me your name?” Scott looked back at Elise and bit his bottom lip.

“Nope.” She didn't even look up at him.

“But you'll show me this place. You'll kiss me in the middle of oncoming traffic. Isn't that kind of saying you trust me?”

“Yes,” Elise agreed as she hunched closer to the light. “What are you trying to say, Scrubs? That I'm sending mixed messages? Because I'm pretty sure you're cute, kinda dull, and that I've been completely honest. What more do you need?”

“I need to know why I've been running all over town with you when I could've been home an hour ago,” he told her with a shrug. “Because it seems like you know it's one in the morning and you don't really care. Don't you have a job? Don't you need sleep?”

“I have a job, and I'm good at it, but you don't need to know that just yet,” Elise told Scott as she tied off the thread and bit it clean. She waved the pants out and tested the sewing job. “It's not perfect, but it'll do. They're probably not salvageable, though.”

Throwing off the afghan, Scott took the clothing and slipped them on. He made note that Elise had turned her head.

Neither one asked if the other was ready to leave. Scott slipped his shoes back on while Elise put away her sewing equipment. Then he walked around the lantern and sat beside her. She leaned forward and turned off the lantern, then leaned back against Scott.

He wrapped his arms around her and she didn't fight him off. Even though he was constantly confused and frustrated and she was unlike anyone Scott had ever met, he liked Elise. She was familiar. She felt like Allison.


	3. Chapter 3

The hug was sort of awkward, and Stiles found himself wishing he had just shaken Derek's hand. When they broke apart, Stiles looked at Derek's uncle. Peter gave him a wave and blew him a kiss. With a shudder, Stiles wished Derek a good night and walked out of the darkened coffee shop. He heard the door close and the click of the lock behind him.

He was not sure how he had gotten from Point A to Point B. Kicking at a piece of the sidewalk that had been chipped loose, he started walking home. It was only about a ten minute trek. Allison was still probably off with the violinist and Scott was probably either at work or home already.

One of them really needed to get a car soon. Probably even a drivers license.

Pulling headphones out of an interior pocket of his jacket, Stiles plugged them into his phone then stuck them in his ear. Derek had been kind enough to upload a couple playlists full of up-and-coming indie groups. He'd been so excited that Stiles neglected to mention he already owned half the songs. The music was still good, though. A little electronica heavy, but Stiles shrugged: it wasn't like Derek was trying to get him to listen to classical like Scott did at every turn. Traditional jazz was on the edge of what Stiles tolerated.

Stiles skipped past the tracks he knew and bobbed his head. He tried to walk on the very edge of the sidewalk, holding his hands out and swaying equally from the lack of balance and in tune with the music. It lasted less than half a song before he fell off and gave up.

As Stiles thought about Derek, another face forced itself into his mind. He knew that he was as over Lydia as Scott was Allison. Unlike Scott, Stiles didn't have his gay ex hanging around as a good friend, though. Lydia had been gone longer than she had been in Stiles' life, but he still thought about her everyday. It was pathetic, he knew, so he never told anyone.

He also never told them why he and Lydia split up. They assumed that his ex had grown bored with him and moved on, which wasn't untrue, but they didn't know that Stiles had been the one to tell her to leave. They'd settled in complacency and Stiles could tell Lydia was with him out of habit more than anything. So he gave her the out. He thought he'd been doing the good thing, the right thing, at the time. What he didn't expect was that she would take the out and never look back. She had cried, and asked him why, but she never begged to stay. She didn't fight to remain a part of his life, and that was the only comfort Stiles could get, twisted as it was.

And when he had tried internet dating, it had been a disaster. Again, everyone knew the end result, but they didn't know the story. Stiles didn't like sharing the details of his life. Ever since high school, Scott and Allison and their various dramas and such had been the focal point of their friendship. Neither one had ever asked Stiles about his love life or anything: not because they were bad friends, but because they knew it was a waste of time to wonder. He didn't date in high school. He was a virgin until he and Lydia got together, and Stiles was sure that was why Tyler had dumped him on his last day in Virginia.

Virginia had been such a disaster, but Stiles didn't know until his last day. He hadn't expected to enjoy spending time with Tyler. It wasn't that it was because Tyler was a man; it was because Stiles had never been with a man. He didn't know the protocol or anything about gay culture besides what he had watched in poorly shot pornography, so he let Tyler take the lead. It had a very detrimental effect on things. Tyler said he wanted to be with someone who wanted to enjoy life, not just sleepwalk through it.

After he came home, Stiles closed all of his internet dating accounts and blocked Tyler's number from his phone. He'd received an email from Tyler a few days after his return, but he deleted it without reading it and blocked him there, too. It didn't matter that Tyler was right and Stiles was just existing from day to day. Having someone point it out had been far too traumatic.

So, after having given up on anything other than being the best friend, Stiles was wondering just what he thought he was doing making a date with someone he barely knew: someone who was way out of his league. It hadn't worked with Lydia or Tyler, so what made him think it was even worth the effort now?

Looking at his phone, Stiles pulled up Derek's number and the poorly lit selfie the barista had assigned to it. He was surprised when he found himself smiling. He literally had no idea if they were even compatible beyond a shared appreciation of coffee and underground indie music. But he was excited. It was weird, being excited about something that wasn't a videogame release.

“You are thinking too much,” Stiles said to himself even though he couldn't hear over the synthesized music blaring in his ears. He always thought too much. It was his kryptonite, thinking.

So instead of thinking himself out of the first date he'd had in over a year, Stiles wondered why Scott had called him earlier. He hadn't left a message, so it wasn't important. He paused the song currently playing and called Scott back, but it went straight to voice mail. Stiles hung up and shrugged again. He resumed the song and tried to whistle along even though he didn't know the melody.

TW

Scott almost checked the time on his phone, but he remembered that it didn't have a battery. The radio was still playing, and he was sure that he'd already heard the tune coming out of the speakers but he didn't say anything. He just sat on the roof looking at the occasional light on in surrounding buildings when he wasn't looking at the dark, distant treeline.

He kissed the back of Elise's head and marvelled at how soft her hair was. Scott wasn't sure what he had been expecting, since she had made a big deal out of it. It wasn't like Allison's, but it was still nice.

“So,” he said without anything ready to follow it. For her part, Elise just slid against Scott until she was lying flat on the roof, her head in his lap.

“So,” she replied as she looked up at him. “I'm cold.”

“It's probably seventy degrees out,” Scott argued as he leaned off to the side and grabbed the blanket he had been using while she fixed his pants. He handed it to her and she stood up. His head cocked, Scott watched as she spread the blanket out on the gravel.

Elise draped herself on the blanket and motioned for Scott to join her. “Come here, Scrubs.”

“This isn't exactly taking me home, is it?” he laughed as he laid beside her. She rolled him onto his side and held him in a spooning position.

“You haven't cared about going home for awhile,” she whispered as the back of one hand brushed against his chest while the other started playing with his hair again. “I'm glad I came with you.”

“I'm glad I followed you,” Scott admitted as he held the hand on his chest. “What are we doing?”

She didn't answer him, choosing to throw one of her legs over his hip and pull him even closer. He could feel her breasts pressed against his back. All he wanted to do was roll over and kiss her again. Feel her body against his as he looked into her eyes. He wanted to whisper her name against her skin, her actual name and not some filler name.

But what he wanted didn't matter. It hadn't mattered all night. They'd done everything she wanted to do. And he was no closer to knowing what she wanted than when they had first met on that empty street.

She had walked up to him out of nowhere, her skin as dark as the night sky and her smile as wicked as a tigress on the prowl. He was her prey then, but he had no idea what he was now.

“You need to take a shower,” Elise giggled in his ear as she loudly inhaled his scent. He snorted in reply. The plan had been to take a shower and crash in bed when he got home, but it seemed less and less likely that he was gonna climb into a bed before dawn struck. Oddly enough, Scott was fairly certain that he was fine with it.

Sleep crept at the edge of his brain as he lay there in the strange woman's embrace. He laid his head on an outstretched arm and realized he was still holding Elise's hand. Without even realizing it, he had intertwined his fingers with hers. The guitar on the radio was fast, but their combined breathing was slow.

Biting his lip to keep from asking a stupid question, Scott stayed silent as he felt Elise's forehead press against his shoulder blades. This was more intimate that a quick and dirty one night stand. He hadn't been with anyone like this since Allison. He thought it would be scarier. It only seemed natural that he would freak out that he was already starting to develop feelings for someone he had only know for a few hours: someone whose name he didn't even know.

Scott smirked as he realized that he had feelings for Elise. It was patently ridiculous. Everything about the night had been, for sure, but this was a step beyond that. All they'd done is eat junk food and hang out on a roof. But it was what it was. So he closed his eyes and listened to her breathe in tune with the music.

TW

Allison ignored Eve's perpetual dirty look as she paid the bill and left what she thought was a sufficient tip. Erica waited for her at the door, looking nervous.

“Have a nice night,” Allison said to the cook and waitress, getting a reply from neither. She turned her head to Erica and shrugged. It wasn't like rude diner workers were able to ruin what had been an otherwise bizarre evening. Allison was pretty sure she and Erica were doing that all by themselves.

As the two women walked down the empty sidewalk, Allison heard the sound of an acoustic guitar blaring from someone's radio. Her neighbours would've flipped out on her for daring to play any music past midnight.

“So, Erica, what do you do when you're not working and not playing violin?” Allison asked as she shoved her hands in the pockets of her coat. She had the feeling Erica wanted to hold her hand, but it was too soon and Allison was still too leery from everything that happened in the diner. One hand balled into an awkward fist and the other played with her key ring.

“I just kind of hang out with the guys: play games, watch bad movies on Netflix, check out music blogs. You know, all the things that your average twenty-something, liberated woman does,” Erica answered as she walked backward and kept pace with Allison. “Sometimes, I go out with hot people, but not that often.”

“Socially awkward? Because my friend Stiles and you would have a lot in common,” Allison teased as she bumped her shoulder into Erica's arm. “I mean, he's bisexual, too!”

“I've probably seen him at the support group meetings, then,” Erica laughed before bumping back into Allison. “Where are we headed?”

“I don't really know. It's pretty late, even for me. I should head home. Which hotel are you staying at?”

Erica shrugged as she pulled her phone out. “I don't remember. Let me text Boyd and find out.”

“Want me to call you a cab?” Allison offered as she retrieved her own phone. Erica nodded and smiled appreciably. She looked up the number of a local cab company she kept in her contacts, just in case the buses were down.

After getting a driver dispatched to their location, Allison looked at Erica and smiled. Erica tilted her head and smiled back.

“May I?” Erica asked as she held her phone out to Allison. Familiar with the ritual, Allison handed Erica her own phone as she took the blonde's. She bit her bottom lip as she held the device, unsure if she should offer a real or fake number. She decided to be honest and input the proper digits before swapping phones with Erica again.

“This was kinda fun, minus the weirdness,” Allison said as they stood by the road waiting for the cab. “We should do it again. Only at a decent hour.”

“Yeah,” Erica agreed quietly. She looked into Allison's eyes before looking away. “Look, I'm sorry about the weirdness. It won't happen again.”

“Some weirdness is fine,” Allison lied in what she hoped was an assuring voice. She was lousy as helping boost self-esteem. It's why she and Scott were together so long. Even though neither was happy, and Allison didn't think it was because of the lesbianism, neither thought they could do better. And they really couldn't: they hadn't dated much since the breakup. Stiles had more of a love life than they did. Allison included the dude from Virginia in that.

They stared awkwardly at each other for a few silent moments. Allison realized she was still holding her phone in her hand and pocketed it. She looked down at her feet, her shoelaces loosely tied and threatening to come undone at a moment's notice. When she looked up, Erica was standing way too close.

Just as Erica reached up to kiss Allison, the brunette woman leaned out of her reach and stepped back.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry,” Erica apologized before taking several steps away from Allison and turning her back to her.

Allison wanted to tell her that it was fine, just a mixed signal or something, but that wasn't the case. It wasn't fine. It was another warning sign to Allison that she should run and never look back. It didn't matter that Allison sort of enjoyed Erica's company, or that Erica was hot. What mattered was that Allison wasn't ready. Years of complacency had dulled whatever romantic notions she had.

All she wanted was someone to come home to, someone to occasionally make love to, someone she could cook with while listening to arts and culture programs on public radio. Erica wasn't going to be that person. Whether she was the shy, demure girl with the broken wing or the confident, sexy musician, Erica Reyes clearly wanted something exciting. Allison was not exciting. She wasn't adventurous. Not anymore.

A stepped forward was aborted and turned into a kick at empty air. Allison missed when she was young thrived on conflict: when she would take a situation like this and grab it by the horns and wrestle it to the ground. Mellowing with age, even though she had barely been out of high school half a decade, it had been something she didn't see coming. When she came out she thought she'd be happy. But something inside broke.

Allison had never slept with another woman. She'd never had sex with anyone but Scott, and the thought of it scared it. Erica scared her. Everything she wanted from life terrified her so much she refused to actually live.

The cab showed up and Erica talked to the driver. She asked if Allison wanted a ride, but she shook her head in the negative and offered a weak wave as a farewell. Erica looked disappointed as she climbed into the cab.

Allison pulled out her phone and walked in the direction of her apartment building. It wasn't a long walk, but she hoped the extra time would clear her head. The conflicting voices in her head argued over which friend she should call for advice, if she should call either one at all.

And that was what started Allison to laughing. She only had two friends, and they were both guys. She had no idea how to be a lesbian beyond what the radical feminists at her college preached when they discussed the evils of the patriarchy. And she didn't hate men. Her sexuality was not a political statement. It had been a non-issue for years because Allison was afraid to make it one.

And it came back to fear. Allison was afraid. She didn't know how to not be afraid.

TW

Stiles was the first to get home, not that he knew it. He opened the front door to the warehouse-turned-apartment building. It was kinda weird that it was unlocked. The super usually locked it down at midnight, and Stiles would have to be buzzed in by one of his neighbours. And the only one awake at this hour always creeped everyone out.

Sliding his keys between his fingers in case someone had broken in, Stiles inched his way through the open door. The hallway was full of boxes and furniture.

“Um, hello?” he called quietly, afraid of waking the other tenants. He'd been yelled at enough times for gaming in the wee hours of the morning, he didn't need people complaining about his screaming in the halls in the middle of the night.

Someone stumbled loudly through the assorted junk cluttering up the hall and offered an apology that made Stiles wince. People were going to yell, and they were going to yell at him. He began shushing the other person as he made his way through the junk and towards the voice.

“What's going on?” Stiles asked as he stepped over a bicycle. “Is someone moving in or moving out?”

“Moving in. The super let me in, but told me I have to have everything in my place by five. And my friends flaked on me an hour ago,” the guy, who was very much a guy, answered. He stood a couple inches taller than Stiles, but didn't tower over him. His skin was darker than Stiles', but lighter than Scott's, so it was hard to place his race. Stiles just quirked his head and shook the outstretched hand. “Danny.”

“Stiles,” he replied before they broke contact. “I was going to go to my place and crash, but there seems to be a sofa blocking the door.”

“Sorry, my friend Jackson was supposed to help me, but he kinda just dumped my stuff on the front lawn and drove off to meet some chick. Give me a couple minutes, and I'll have it cleaned up for you. I was told that nobody ever came in this late.”

“They probably didn't mention that the front door is supposed to stay locked after midnight, either. They never tell the new people, and then yell at them,” Stiles sighed with an eyeroll. Then he snapped his fingers. “Oh, right, I should probably go lock it.”

“Sorry!” Danny called again, in a much softer voice. He grinned at Stiles, and Stiles found himself appreciating the dimples. It was nice to finally have a neighbour who was cute. Everyone else in his building seemed to be actively trying to look ugly.

“It's fine,” Stiles assured Danny when he heard the click of the lock. “Listen, you said you have until five? There is no chance you can do this all by yourself. Let me help you out.”

“Dude, you rock,” Danny accepted with another dimpled smile. I'm in 2C. Which is weird, since this building only has one story.”

“Yeah, the guy who owns this place really hates the number '1'. It's weird. He actually appealed to the county zoning board to have these numbers installed,” Stiles told Danny as he lifted a random box of junk. “And it's cool that you're in 2C, because I'm right next door in 2E. I need someone living around here that doesn't hate me.”

“Everyone here hates you?” Danny asked as he led Stiles through the pathway of boxes and plastic totes. “Again, sorry about the hall, but I didn't want to leave anything on the front lawn and have people thinking it was okay to take it.”

“Well, not everyone hates me. Some tolerate me,” Stiles answered with an animated shrug as he walked into Danny's apartment. There were boxes shoved in one corner. “Ah, you have a one room studio, just like me and my roomies.”

“Roomies? As in more than one of you live in one apartment?” Danny asked he he directed Stiles to just throw the box in the corner with the others. “And is it one room if you have a bathroom and shower?”

“Dude, there is no kitchen in my place. We have one of those changing curtains that is used for that very purpose. Three people in a space like this. We share a bed. It's all very cramped, but we wouldn't have it any other way. Routines and all that, you know?” Stiles debated whether to set the box on the floor or on top of another box. Then he realized he didn't care and just set it down on the nearest box. “It was all kinds of awkward when Scott and Allison, they're my roommates, they broke up. But we all had to live together and Scott kind of slept on the beanbag chair for a month.

“We're all kinds of polyamorous, only without the sex. Because that would be weird,” Stiles rambled as Danny just stared at him. With a nervous laugh, Stiles scratched the back of his head. “Um, I would totally understand if you want me to leave.”

“Why would I do that? It's not everyday I have an adorable spaz helping me move into my apartment,” Danny joked as he clapped Stiles on the shoulder.

“Adorable? Me?” Stiles pointed at his face and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“I think so, so far. Please tell me you're cool with having a gay neighbour. The super told me everyone here is, like, super liberal and that it'd be fine,” Danny said as he pulled his hand away from Stiles.

Stiles nodded at Danny. “Oh, you're gay? Nah, that's cool. My roommate, Allison, is gay. And I'm kinda gay, too.”

“How are you 'kinda gay'? Like, you're bi or pan or something?” Danny walked past Stiles and motioned for them to continue the conversation as they worked.

“I guess you could say I'm bi.” Stiles picked up the bike and lifted it over the mess. “You ride?”

“Cheaper than having a car, and less sweaty than riding the bus,” Danny answered as he grabbed a large plastic tote. “So, are you doing anything tomorrow night? Well, I guess it's technically tonight, but whatever. I thought I could treat you to ice cream or something as thanks for the help. I'll even let you ride on the handlebars of my bike.”

Stiles set the bike down in Danny's doorway and wheeled it the rest of the way in, fighting the urge to shake his head. If he was right, and it was possible he wasn't, then Danny was flirting with him and possibly asking him out on a date. This was two hot guys in one night. Either something strange in the universe had suddenly made him shift from a six to a ten, or there was one hell of a coincidence.

“We'll walk. And sure.” Stiles supposed he should feel bad for getting two dates on the same night, but it wasn't like they were scheduled for the same night or anything. Heck, he hadn't even been out with Derek yet. He was flying high and guilt was an afterthought.

“Good,” Danny agreed as he pushed past Stiles and threw the tote in the corner opposite the one already full of boxes. “It's a date.”

“Like, an actual date, or a casual thing, though?” Stiles asked even though it was awkward as hell. He figured it was better to be embarrassed and know what he was getting himself into than not.

“I was thinking it could be the pre-date thing where we get to know each other and see if we'd like to actually have a date, but that kind of sounds like a first date anyway, so sure,” Danny looked at something out of the corner of his eyes before looking at Stiles. “It's a date. If you're cool with that.”

“Dude, I am so cool, I'm like the Arctic,” Stiles bragged as he leaned against the door frame. “Did you want to meet here and walk together or something?”

“That works for me,” Danny brushed past Stiles, making sure to run his hand along Stiles' stomach. “Again, thanks for your help.”


	4. Chapter 4

Allison and Stiles were already home and sleeping when Scott eased the door open to their apartment. Stiles had crashed in the bed, and Allison had opted for the beanbag, which meant they more than likely had a fight. He wondered if it was about him. He hadn't come home, and he hadn't exactly told them he was spending the night on the rooftop with a woman whose name he didn't even know.

The door quietly clicked shut and Scott locked it. He hung his keys up on the hook by the door, trying to keep them from jangling too loudly lest he wake his roommates. The walk to the kitchen was quieter than he expected after kicking off his shoes. His socks muffled the sound of his feet on the concrete floor. Allison had mentioned more than once that they should get rugs, but Stiles countered that rugs needed to be vacuumed. Scott didn't care either way, since Stiles was the one that kept the place clean.

All Scott cared about was coffee and climbing into bed. Neither of his roommates had thought to make coffee when they got home the night before, so bit back a groan as he filled the percolator. It would definitely wake up one of them, possibly both, but it was almost eight in the morning and some of them had to work. Thankfully, Scott had called in to work at a payphone as he walked home and they told him not to come in.

While the percolator loudly began making the coffee, Scott settled himself at the small dining table in what passed for a kitchenette with a glass of milk. He needed something to drink, whether it had caffeine or not.

The first one to rise was Allison. She stretched, looking uncomfortable, and looked at the bed and saw Stiles was still its lone occupant. Scott raised his glass of milk to her as the coffee maker popped loudly. Groaning and clearly still half-asleep, Allison dragged herself off the beanbag and slumped into the chair at the table opposite Scott. Her hair was a mess, and he made a point of not mentioning it.

“When did you get home?” Allison moaned as she looked lovingly at the coffee machine. “Please tell me that ready.”

“It's not. I got here a little bit before you woke up,” Scott answered as he took a drink from his glass. He was sore from sleeping on the stone, but at least he'd gotten sleep. Allison looked like she had managed to scraped out maybe two or three hours of rest. The fight must have been ugly. “You're the one who insisted on getting this.”

“It tastes better, asshole,” she groused before burying her face in the table and covering her head with her arms. Scott knew not to take it personally. He'd had years to learn that Allison was not a morning person. When her head did pop back up, she looked him in the eyes. “Where were you? We waited at the club until it closed, and you didn't come, then you never called.”

“I called Stiles, actually,” Scott corrected as he stood up and walked to the mini-fridge that sat on the counter. “You want something? We have milk, Stiles' vanilla almond milk, and this jar of whatever concoction you bought at the health food store this week.”

“No water?” Allison grumbled, eyes locked on the percolator and lips pursed. “I could have sworn I filled the jug and put it in there yesterday.”

“The glass jug that Stiles dropped while you were working and then disposed of before you got home?” Scott asked even though she knew nothing about it. “Yeah, we don't have a replacement for it yet, so if you want water it's going to be lukewarm.”

“We have to start buying bottled again. To hell with your BPA ban,” Allison complained as she ran both hands through her tangled mane. She grunted when her left one caught a rat's nest. Scott closed the fridge and fetched her brush from the nightstand before she started killing people. “I'll take almond milk. I'm not in the mood for lactose right now.”

“You're never in the mood for lactose,” Scott argued as he fetched a glass and filled it halfway for Allison. He didn't want to risk her spilling it in her sluggish state. “We should just drop dairy like Stiles keeps telling us.”

“That little asshole still takes creamer in his coffee, Scott. And we're not switching to soy milk. The body treats soy as Oestrogen, and I like being the only one here with boobs.” Allison took the glass from Scott and glared at him as he sat down. She blinked once before opening her mouth again. “And just where the hell were you, and why do you look well rested while I feel like shit?”

“Language, Ma'am,” Scott chastised playfully, though he stopped chuckling when he saw the murder in Allison's eyes. “I guess you could say I did some urban camping.”

Allison took a small sip of her almond milk and threw a look of loathing at her roommate. “It is far too early for your damned wordplay, Scott McCall. Tell me what happened. And I don't need details that are better spent in a letter to Penthouse.”

Pulling out his phone, Scott took the back off and set it on the table with the screen down. “You see that lack of a battery? I think it played a significant role in my lack of calling you last night.”

“I think it's too early for you to use your damned word-of-the-day, Scott. Stop trying to impress me and just tell me what a missing battery has to do with you blowing us off last night.”

“I told you, remember answering your phone last night? I told you I was working over. And when I finally got off, the buses had finished running. So I took a cab, and the driver scammed me by taking me to the wrong part of town and then driving off without giving me my change.”

“You didn't notice the lack of familiar landmarks when he came to a stop?” Allison wondered as consciousness slowly crept into her eyes. Said eyes continued to flick back and forth between Scott and the percolator.

“It was dark and I was tired,” he offered as a defence. With a sigh, he took another drink of milk. The glass was already beginning to accumulate condensation, a sign it was going to be another hot and humid day. It was going to be miserable. “When are we going to get an air conditioner?”

“Stop whining. It's not that hot, and people lived without them for centuries. Also, who is going to pay for one, and the accompanying electric bill? Because it's not me,” Allison grumbled as she slammed her glass down. It was a good thing Scott hadn't filled it any further than he had. “You're still not telling me where you were, just for the damned record.”

“I was with a girl. An amazing girl that I did not have sex with, mind you. We fell asleep on a roof together, and when I woke up she was gone, but my wallet was still in my pocket and so was my money.” Scott wasn't sure if he was bragging or complaining. He wasn't sure if he cared.

“Does this amazing mystery girl have a name?” Allison sounded intrigued, which was not the reaction Scott expected. Neither of them really dated after the coming out and breaking up. He didn't expect a discussion with Allison about a possible romantic encounter to be so comfortable, let alone cordial. “Are you meeting her again? Or is she just gone? You know, like, 'poof!'?”

“I think she's gone, and she never did tell me her name. She just called me Scrubs and made me do lots of weird things with her, like throwing food in streets and stuff. It was weird, but fun.”

Allison rolled her eyes and made a disgusted face. “Ugh. Manic Pixie Dream Girls are the worst. Scott, listen to me, stay away from people like that. She'll have you eating from dumpsters and singing songs on street corners before you know it.”

“Aren't you the one who spent half of last year with a dumpster diving crew?” Scott questioned as he began to think of what to eat. He needed food, and they didn't have much of it. He needed to go shopping.

“That was Stiles, and it was a couple years ago. And while I'm thinking about it, no, I didn't get you that CD. Sorry.”

Even though Allison didn't sound sorry, Scott shrugged and let it go. The last thing he was worried about was some CD from an unsigned group. Besides, he'd probably be at their next show and he could get it himself.

“It's fine,” he assured her. “And I liked her. I hope I do see her again, but even if I don't I at least have a great story to tell when I finally make some friends that aren't the two of you.”

“So your mom is going to hear about this?” Allison teased with a smile as she picked her almond milk back up and stared longingly at the percolator. “Why does that thing take so long?”

“Why are you asking me?” Scott asked Allison as he ran his index finger around the rim of his glass. “You bought it. You wanted it. You said you'd make the coffee the night before so we'd have something to drink every morning.”

“And now I'm saying I want caffeine, you dick,” Allison snarled loudly.

Stiles awoke with snort, a jerk, and fell from the bed to the floor. A laugh at the action was held back by Scott. Not because he was worried about hurting Stiles' feelings, but because he was worried about Allison stabbing him. She didn't like laughter until she'd have at least half a cup of coffee.

“What'd I miss?” Stiles called as pulled himself up from the floor and stood with his hands on the bed to support himself. “Hey, Scott, you're home.”

“And you're more awake than the person I've been talking to for the last ten minutes,” Scott observed with a smile at Allison. She glared at him, the hate radiating off of her in waves. His smile faltered.

“Scott was telling me about this random chick he hooked up with last night, but he's too much of a pussy to stick it in,” Allison groused hatefully.

“No coffee?” Stiles asked as he slowly walked to the table, waiting for his equilibrium to catch up with his movements.

“Not for another half hour,” Scott pointed to the percolator. “You guys forgot to make it last night.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Stiles noted as he moved the free chair out of Allison's reach and sat beside Scott. While ignoring her evil looks, Stiles turned to Scott. “So, you met some sexy chica?”

“We hung out. Played in dumpsters and fell asleep on a roof,” Scott explained simply. “It was a weird night, but it was fun. I haven't done anything fun in way too long.”

“I'm fun, you bitch,” Allison growled. “Are you saying you don't have fun when we hang out?”

Stiles interjected himself into the conversation before Scott could reply. “So, Allison, that guy from last night? It's a date.”

“You're dating guys again?” Scott looked at Stiles with a touch of surprise. “After that guy from Virginia, you said that you were done with dudes. What changed?”

“He's super hot. That's what changed,” Allison snorted. “Scott, this guy could probably have made me jump back into the straight pool if he tried. Hell, you'd probably wanna sex him up. He is hella fine.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles ignored Allison and decided to look at Scott. “Look, I don't get asked out often by anyone, man or woman. And yes, he's hot, but he's also interesting. He's the barista at that coffee joint you never told us about.”

“Derek? Dude, I had no idea he was gay,” Scott whistled before laughing. He noted that Allison chose to laugh with him. “Yeah, I'm comfortable saying that he's a hot piece of ass. How did you manage to snag him? He never once hit on me.”

“Scott, no offence, but he could've grabbed your ass and licked your face and you wouldn't know he was hitting on you,” Allison stated with a shrug as she finished off her almond milk. “I mean, you know no idea I was a lesbian.”

“Neither did you!” Scott argued as he pointed a finger at Allison. She reached across the table and twisted it. Not enough to break the digit, but enough to make Scott wince and beg for freedom.

Allison released him and stormed away from the table. She lifted the tab on the percolator's spout and let her glass fill with brown-tinged hot water.

“You know that's nowhere near being ready,” Scott said as he nursed his finger.

“All I know is that I need caffeine and I need it now,” Allison replied as she flipped the tab on the spout back down. She looked at the glass with disgust, but took a drink anyway. “So gross.”

Allison didn't dump the glass, but instead took another gulp and returned to her seat.

“Can we get back to me?” Stiles stood up and walked to the cupboard. He rifled through the contents and emerged with a box of cereal. He reached in and pulled out a handful. “Like, I have two hot dudes who want me, and y'all are all alone.”

“Two dudes? What, did Derek's uncle hit on you, too?” Scott smirked as he snatched the box of cereal when Stiles sat down. “That guys hits on everything that moves, but he's damned creepy.”

“Scott, how long have you been hanging out at that coffee place and why did you wait so long to tell us?” Allison wondered as she ignored Stiles' self-absorbed protests.

“Not that long, and I told you guys about it because I thought you'd like that jazz group. Was I wrong?”

“No,” Stiles grinned as he looked at Allison. “Allison really liked them. A lot.”

“Shut up,” she snapped as she took another drink of her coffee-coloured water.

Scott laughed lightly as he watched his roommates bicker. When he woke up and Elise or whatever she called herself was gone, he had been disappointed. More than that, he'd been angry. But as he walked home, observing the people who frequented Beacon Hill when the sun shined walking past him, absorbed in their own lives, he realized that he had been just like them. Hell, he probably was still just like them.

“So, who is mystery man number two?” Scott asked Stiles, interrupting the barbs being thrown between his two best friends. “You never did tell us.”

“Oh!” Stiles turned a bit red but held his head up. “I completely forgot. His name is Danny, and he just moved into the building. I helped him move his stuff into his apartment last night. We're getting ice cream tonight.”

“Ice cream? What are you, fourteen?” Allison snorted before taking another drink and scowling. It may have been gross to watch, but Scott was glad it seemed to be waking her up and improving her mood.

“Oh ha. And what did you and the violin player do last night? Huh?” Stiles shot back, causing Scott's head to bob as his attention shifted between the two of them.

“Did we all socialize last night with people who aren't each other or something?” Scott exclaimed in a louder voice than he had intended. He then dropped it several decibels for the followup question. “And by violinist, do you mean the hot blonde chick from the jazz group?”

“Yes, Scott, I went out last night. With a woman. Because, you know, that's what we lesbians do.” Allison looked pleased with herself as she leaned back in her chair. She smiled at her two roommates, as if daring either one of them to challenge her claim. They were both smart enough not to.

With a sincere smile, Scott reached across the table and laid his hand on hers. “Good for you. I've been hoping you'd meet someone, and this is a great first start. Are you seeing her again?”

“I don't know. I haven't called her,” Allison shrugged, trying to use nonchalant body language to mask her insecure voice. “We'll see how it goes. I just can't believe this one snagged two guys. What are the odds?”

“Meh, I say. Meh!” Stiles stuck his tongue out at Allison and leaned back and laughed as she tried to hit him. Her fist sailed harmlessly through the air.

“So, which one is more promising? Cute guy down the hall or hot barista Derek?” Scott asked Stiles as he stuck his hand into the box of cereal. He pulled out another handful and popped it into his mouth.

“Yeah, come on, Stiles,” Allison pressed as she took another drink. Her face went sour and Scott wondered why she didn't just give it up. There couldn't have been that much caffeine.

Scratching at the back of his head, Stiles shrugged. “I don't know. Derek and I talked, and he gave me some awesome music to check out, and he is really hot, but he's thirty. But I liked him. A lot. I didn't spend enough time with Danny to get much of a read on him. He seemed cool enough. But we were too busy moving him in to engage in much more than small talk. He has awesome dimples, though.”

“I'm still shocked you're giving two dudes a go. I thought you were back on the pussy bandwagon for good,” Allison said with a cheesy grin before leaning over the table and ripping the cereal box from Scott with a violent jerk. He started to protest, but she shut him down with a glare. Then she turned her attention back to Stiles. “I mean, whatever makes you happy makes you happy.”

“Allison, Derek gave his number to you to give to me. You pushed me to talk to him. Why would you be surprised?” Stiles stood up and went back to the cabinet. He pulled out another box of cereal. “Besides, it could work out with neither of them and I'll try women again.”

“Do most bisexual people go back and forth like him?” Scott asked Allison as he jerked his thumb at his best friend. Stiles waved one hand at them incredulously as the other snagged a bowl from the drying rack by the sink. “I could have sworn they didn't.”

“How should I know? He's the only bisexual person I know. Hell, he's the only other non-straight person I know. And Erica doesn't count, because I don't really know her,” Allison argued even though Scott hadn't even thought of bringing her up.

“Erica? The violinist is named 'Erica'?” Stiles grabbed his carton of almond milk and set it on the counter before filling the bowl with shredded wheat. “I guess it kind of suits her, but that's such a common name. Huh.”

“Do you really want to talk about names, Stiles?” Allison placed emphasis on his name, causing him to wince and spill a bit of his almond milk on the counter as he poured it over the cereal. He looked at his friends and shook his head pleadingly. “I thought not.”

“Hey, Stiles, do you wanna go with me to get a new battery for my phone?” Scott asked in an attempt to change the topic. Allison and Stiles both stared at him oddly. “I lost mine last night.”

“Is that why you didn't answer when I was trying to call and see why you hadn't come home?” Stiles asked as he carefully walked over to the table with his breakfast. When he set it down, he looked around and grumbled. “I don't have a spoon? How could I forget to grab a spoon?”

“Speaking of spoons, you said you fell asleep with your mystery girl last night, Scott. How did that happen?” Allison inquired as Stiles quirked an eyebrow while sifting through the unorganized silverware container. It had been Allison's idea to reuse the disposable food containers from the food she got after her mother's funeral. Several were scattered across the apartment, holding various trinkets

Suddenly finding himself shy, Scott looked down at the table and played with the dirt under his fingernails. He closed his eyes and breathed, remembering the feel of Elise's hand in his hair. He ran his own hand through his locks, trying to see if he could recreate the sensation.

“It wasn't supposed to be an all night thing. She was just showing me where she would go camping. There's a pirated radio station in town, did you know that? I didn't. But she was nice.”

Allison snorted into her glass, but didn't drink. “Dude, you sound like the clueless guy lead in a chick flick. Did she take your balls when you weren't looking?”

The comment rolled off of Scott's back as he sighed. It wasn't an inaccurate description. He was in puppy love and he knew it. It would fade after a couple days. Or he hoped it would. It had taken a year for him to get over Allison after they split. But that had been much more serious.

“Dude, you're all mopey,” Stiles pointed out as he sat beside Scott and put a hand on his shoulder. “You have it bad for this random girl.”

“He doesn't even know her name,” Allison told Stiles as she looked at Scott with a teasing wink before reaching into the cereal box. “How does that even happen?”

“It's probably because we're hipsters,” Stiles shrugged casually. “I mean, we're counterculture types. We do weird things for the sake of doing weird things. Like going to a coffee house that is also a jazz club at ten at night. Or stealing posters from the garbage bins of theatres.”

“I took two posters, and you liked them both!” Allison argued as she pointed to the framed images hanging on the wall above the bed. “So don't you even start. Besides you started the dumpster diving thing.”

“I remember you eating the pastries without guilt.”

“Guys!” Scott slammed his hands on the table to get their attention. Stiles quieted down and resumed eating his cereal. Allison glared at Scott. “Allison, the coffee should be done, or close enough. And don't you work today?”

“Crap! I forgot,” she yelled as she ran to her dresser, grabbed an outfit, and disappeared behind the dressing screen.

“Yeah, Scott, I'll go with you.” Stiles smiled at his best friend as Allison loudly swore on the other side of the apartment. “Do you have any other plans for today?”

“Besides showering and putting on actual clothes? Not really,” Scott admitted as he laid his head on the table and looked up at Stiles. “Dude, when is this ice cream thing?”

“This afternoon. Why?” Stiles eyes Scott oddly.

“Because I need to meet him to see if I approve. I've already met Derek. Heck, we've chatted a few times. Like actual conversations. So I'm fairly certain you'll be okay there. But I don't know this Danny guy. He could be another Jackson or something.”

Stiles' eyes darkened at the mention of Lydia's ex-boyfriend, and Scott found himself wishing he hadn't said anything. He was so sure that topic was so dead that Stiles wouldn't have any kind of reaction.

“You did not just said that abusive arsehole’s name!” Allison shouted as she emerged from behind the changing screen, pulling her shirt down over her stomach and tucking it into her slacks. “Didn't we agree that we would never talk about him unless it was how we were going to crash his funeral and piss on the headstone?”

“I believe we did,” Stiles said as he glared down at Scott.

For his part, Scott just groaned and covered his head with his arms.


	5. Chapter 5

Her phone hadn't rang. It hadn't even buzzed, on the off chance she set it to vibrate. Allison pulled it out and saw that the ringer was on and the battery was still relatively full. There were just no messages. Nothing from Erica. Was the girl as nervous as Allison? Or had she read the subtle messages Allison had sent that she wanted to be left alone?

Allison had wanted to be left alone. She was certain of it. But as she waved farewell to her co-workers and straightened her scarf, she was questioning it. The dinner the night before had gone horribly. There was no question to that. And Erica had tried to kiss her. The only person Allison had ever kissed was Scott, so she shied away. She really was the worst lesbian ever.

“What do I want?” Allison asked herself as she headed in the direction of the coffee shop she'd been to the night before. She didn't even try to pretend to herself that she was going for the coffee, even though it was good. Her heart half-hoped Erica would be there, playing her violin. She thought they had discussed what their jobs were, but she couldn't remember was Erica's was or if she even had a job.

She slid through a crowd of people waiting for the bus and looked at the traffic as she stood on the edge of the curb. It would have been easy to jaywalk, as any vehicles within distance of hitting her were parked, but Allison leaned back and hit the crosswalk button anyway. A middle-aged businessman holding a briefcase in one hand and a cellphone to his ear in the other looked her up and down. Allison fought the urge to shudder.

Erica had definitely done her share of leering, but at least Allison was interested in her. Or had been. The whole dating thing was confusing and that was why she didn't do it. She had a vibrator for when Scott and Stiles were gone and she made sure to use it. Though, it had been embarrassing the first time Stiles found her hiding spot, and Scott had left the apartment in an unreadable silence. So she made sure they knew where it was and it eventually got less awkward. It wasn't like she could slip into the bathroom like they did, and she made sure to change the sheet after she finished.

It bothered Allison that she was more considerate about masturbating than her roommates were. She made a note to talk to them about it.

The white light flashed and Allison sprinted across the street and away from the crowd. She skidded to a stop when she reached the concrete sidewalk on the other side. Looking behind her, Allison saw the guy was still watching her. She flashed him her middle finger before walking away.

A few minutes later, Allison was standing outside the coffee shop and straining to see if there was sounds of jazz coming through the closed door. Tentatively, she cracked it open, and there was just some random, forgettable indie pop music playing through the speakers.

“Come on in,” the guy from the night before, Allison was pretty sure his name was Derek, called to her with a smile. “We're open. The sign says so.”

Nervous, Allison swung the door open the rest of the way and walked into the coffee shop. There was only one customer, a man who looked to be in his early thirties, sitting at a table reading something on his tablet and drinking from a reusable thermos.

“For some reason, business doesn't pick up until about five. We seem to have a reputation for being a late night place, which is weird because we open at eight,” Derek answered to Allison's unasked question. “What can I get you?”

“I'll just have a black coffee to start. And a raisin muffin if you have any,” she told him as she sat at the counter. Or was it a bar? She wasn't sure what it was called at a place that didn't serve alcohol.

“We don't have raisin muffins. Tried them when we first opened, but nobody ever bought. I have chocolate, blueberry, and strawberry, though,” Derek explained as he fetched a clean mug and set it on the counter in front of Allison. It rattled against the saucer upon which it sat.

“Do you have cookies?” Allison asked as she looked at the chalkboard on the wall with the list of daily specials. “Ooh, wait, you have red velvet cake? I'll take a slice of that! It is cream cheese frosting, yes?”

“Yes, it is,” Derek assured Allison as he poured the coffee into her cup and placed the pot back onto its warmer. Allison barely remembered her brief chat with him from the night before beyond giving his phone number to Stiles. She watched as he squatted down and opened a sliding door under the counter. Then she leaned backed and saw that the bar doubled as a display case with a glass front so customers could see the food. She wondered how she had missed it.

Accepting the cake with a smile, Allison reached into her pocket and handed Derek a twenty dollar bill. He wandered over to the cash register, humming in tune with the song currently playing. Allison kept watching him. While she been joking about heterosexuality, she did admit to herself that he was a very good looking man.

Derek noticed her watching him and winked. In return, Allison looked away and blushed. She had no idea what she was doing. Was she checking him out to make sure he was up to snuff for Stiles and just being awkward in general? It wasn't like she was shifting into bisexuality. She slept with Scott and Stiles almost every night.

“I appreciate the attention, but I have to tell you that I'm gay,” Derek chuckled as he handed Allison her change and a plastic fork for her cake.

“It's okay, so am I,” Allison told Derek as she took the money and refused the silverware. She reached into her interior coat pocket and produced what looked like a case for eyeglasses. She snapped it open and pulled out her own wooden fork, leaving a wooden spoon inside. “I bring my own, and metal ones set off the detector at work.”

“Where do you work?” Derek asked with a laugh as he put the plastic fork back into a bin. “Or is it rude of me to ask?”

Allison shook her head and told Derek that it was fine. “I work as a janitor down at the Beacon Hills NPR station. Three six hour days during the week, and two eleven hour days during the weekend. Weekends tend to be second shifts,” she explained needlessly as she simultaneously berated herself internally. Derek was making small talk. He didn't care.

“So you almost never seen Scott, then?” Derek asked as he reached over the bar and grabbed one of the stools. “Is it fine if I chat with you? I've already cleaned everything, and it's so boring right now. The rush isn't for another hour or so.”

“I don't mind,” she shrugged as she speared a piece of and bit into the cake for the first time. “Oh, wow, this is really good. Like, really, really good.”

“I'm glad you like it. It's vegan. Substituted tofu for the eggs. I was hoping it'd turn out alright,” Derek told Allison as he pointed to the blackboard. Indeed, it said that it was a vegan cake. She wondered how she kept missing things. “I've never worked with tofu before, but a lot of our customers complain that we don't offer a large enough vegan selection.”

“Are you a vegan?” Allison asked Derek as she noted his large muscles. The vegans she knew tended to be less massive and more on the skinny side.

“Nah, ovo-lavo vegetarian. With a heavy preference for vegan-friendly protein drinks,” Derek told Allison as he sat down. “I'm surprised you weren't surprised that I know who Scott is.”

“He is my roommate, and you gave our other roommate your number and set up a date with him. We talk.” Allison stopped talking long enough to stuff another bit of the cake in her mouth and wash it down with the coffee. “I'm surprised you remembered me, to be honest. We didn't talk much.”

“Considering I gave you my phone number to give to Stiles, it can't be that difficult.”

“Why did you have me give it to him, anyway? It's not like you couldn't have walked over to him yourself,” Allison shifted in her seat and looked directly into Derek's eyes. He nervously looked away. “I don't do so well with the confrontation thing.”

“It's not like you were going into battle against the Soviets.” Allison stopped looking at Derek and looked down at her cake. Half of it was already gone.

“The Soviets haven't existed for twenty years,” Derek pointed out. The guy sitting at the table grunted, but made no attempt to talk to either of the shop's other occupants. “Say, how is Stiles? Did he seem excited about our date? I don't want to sound like a stalker or anything, so let me know if I'm being weird.”

“He's fine, and he's looking forward to the museum thing,” Allison assured Derek. She was sensing that he didn't exactly have the highest self-esteem, despite having one of the best bodies she'd ever seen. It was weird. What was even weirder was that she sort of related to it.

Derek raised an eyebrow at Allison. “Museum?”

“You know, the picture thing. The display or whatever.” Allison felt dumb and looked anywhere she could but at Derek.

“Oh! My sister Cora's having a showing for her photography. It's not at a museum,” Derek told Allison. “There's going to be a spoken word performance, too. You should come.”

“You don't want me to be a third wheel on your first date with Stiles,” Allison laughed as she focused her eyes back on Derek. “Besides, do you even know my name?”

“No, I don't. Derek Hale, and you are?” He held his hand out to Allison with a jovial expression on his face.

She took his hand in hers and met his grip with her own. “Allison Argent.”

“Nice to meet you, Allison Argent,” Derek said smoothly. His demeanour had completely changed, and Allison guessed that it was because he wasn't thinking about himself. So maybe his self-esteem was fine, and he was just really self-conscious?

She mentally shrugged and released Derek's hand. It wasn't her problem. Her problem was blonde and busty. And she was also nowhere in sight.

“So, is that group that played here last night gonna play again tonight?” Allison asked Derek as she picked up her cup of coffee and held it to her lips. She did her best to look nonchalant, but could see in Derek's eyes that she appeared anything but.

“Yes, actually. They start at eight. You're not gonna hang around until then, are you?”

“Trying to get rid of me so soon?” Allison turned so that Derek could only see her profile and flipped her hair that it covered half her face. She struck a femme fatale pose. Derek laughed at her.

“I like the conversation,” he chuckled as he looked at the door behind the bar, “but my uncle is the one who owns the place and he hates squatters. So unless you plan on buying coffee and cake all night, it's probably for the best if you left and came back.”

“I'll do that, and I'll bring Scott. I need to see how he acts when he's someplace he actually wants to be. Ha!” Allison snorted as she turned back to face Derek, set her coffee cup back on the saucer, and picked the fork up from the plate. She really did want another piece of cake.

TW

The sun beat down and Scott's antiperspirant had already given out. He smiled when he heard the sound of someone climbing the fire escape. Elise looked at him oddly as she climbed over the edge of the roof.

“What are you still doing here?” she asked suspiciously as she looked at Scott and edged away from him. “Or, should I say, why are you back here? You clearly changed your clothes, Scrubs.”

“You can't call me Scrubs anymore,” Scott joked as he tried not to laugh. He played with the edges of his fedora nervously.

“I'll call you whatever I choose. Why are you here?” Elise stood away from Scott, as though she were scared. He noticed this and remained sitting in the middle of the roof.

“I wanted to see you again. Thank you for last night and all of that,” Scott answered sincerely. “If you want me to leave, I'll go.”

The sight of an uncomfortable woman, possibly even afraid because he was there, was unsettling to Scott. Especially this one. She had approached him. She had come to him. She had brought him here. And all he's expected from her was conversation.

Elise didn't answer. Scott didn't move. He didn't even look at her. The ball was in her court, so to speak.

“You can stay,” she sighed. Scott looked up and saw her throw her hands in the air. “I suppose it's my fault for feeding the stray. Did you actually have anything to say?”

When he thought about it, Scott realized that he didn't have anything to say to her. He didn't even know her name, technically. Hell, there wasn't even a trinket or some other gift he had that he could use as a cover.

“The silence is an obvious no,” Elise said as she sat beside Scott and snatched the hat from his head. Her fingers ran along the inside rim which was damp from his sweat. “Scrubs, you are so adorably pathetic.”

“Uh, thanks?” he replied as he tilted his head and looked at her. She wasn't wearing the clothes she had been the night before, so clearly she did have a home somewhere where she could change.

“Listen, you're cute and I like you, but this can't happen again. You can't just make yourself at home here. It's weird, and not in the fun way. If you want to get a hold of me, call me like a normal person.” She pulled out her phone and handed it to Scott. “Better yet, I'll call you.”

He opened her contacts, saw that all the names were clearly random nicknames, then began putting his cell number in. The fact that he put it under “Scrubs” made him smile, even if it was just to himself. The pseudonym was growing on him.

“Are you ever going to call me?” Scott handed the phone back to Elise. “Or tell me your actual name?”

“One step at a time. You forget that I barely know you. You might not be the sweet, harmless puppy that you present.” She knocked his hat off, reached into his hair and began scratching his scalp as though it were second nature. It wasn't rough, but enough to make him feel slightly insulted. Why did everyone have to call him a puppy?

Scott flopped onto his back, wincing when he hit the stone. That hadn't been his brightest moment. At least he had thought to use the fedora as a makeshift pillow.

Elise stood and walked to the tent and unzipped the door. Scott lifted his head and watched her pull a book out before sitting down beside him. The woman opened the book, then held it with her right hand as her left went back into his hair. She was always messing with his hair. It was weird.

“What are you reading?” Scott asked even though he could see the title of the book. It wasn't one he recognized.

“Just some story about a guy who won big on a game show and how it ruined his life,” she replied without bothering to look at Scott. He thought it sounded interesting, but he wasn't one for reading.

While Elise read and played with his hair, Scott pulled out his phone, its new battery freshly charged, and began playing a podcast. It was just a random episode of an audio drama, mystery men and the like, but it was enough to get the woman to put down her book.

“And what is this?” Elise folded down a corner of her current page and tossed the book to the side. Her fingers wrapped around Scott's wrist, her black tones complimenting his brown ones. She lifted his hand up so she could see the title of the show on the screen of his phone.

“You don't know The Red Panda? I want to be Kit Baxter when I grow up,” Scott teased without actually explaining anything.

“Just how big of a geek are you, Scrubs? Did you read A Song of Fire and Ice before Game of Thrones aired on TV?”

“I'm not big on sword and sorcery fantasy stuff, to be honest. I'm a science fiction nerd. And early 30s-style pulp, I guess. I read a lot of stuff like The Shadow,” Scott answered. He opted not to comment on how Elise was still holding onto his wrist.

“So you're a big geek. I prefer to read things like King City or Chloe Noonan. You know, underground stuff.”

“Is King City really underground? I'm pretty sure they had a mainstream publisher. I have read Chloe Noonan, though. I'm shocked someone else knows it. It's too obscure for even my social circle,” Scott smiled and struggled to sit up with only one free hand to support himself. Halfway through the action, he decided to just lay on his side and look at Elise. “I don't know many women who read comics. Or guys, to be honest. My roommate Allison is into manga, though.”

“I haven't read manga since 2008 or so. It got so formulaic and I just stopped caring.” Elise shook her head and finally released Scott's wrist. “I don't really read the mainstream US stuff, either. Well, I read Captain Marvel, the one with Carol Danvers, but overall I'm not here for superheroes. Though, shockingly, I loved the revival of the Liefeld properties. Glory especially.”

Scott didn't say anything, he just listened to her recap a comic book of which he already had a passing knowledge. He never got to talk about comic books. Stiles stopped reading years before, Allison didn't care for the American format, and the people in online forums were kind of crazy.

“You know what? You win, Scrubs. We'll do the socializing thing. A friend of mine is having a photo gallery set up this week. You show up looking dapper, with that amazing head of hair all trimmed up, and I'll introduce you guys.” Elise smiled at him as she drew her legs up and rested her chin on her kneecaps. “I'll text you the info later.”

“Why not just tell me now?” Scott inquired with a puzzled expression.

Elise shrugged. “I don't know when or where it is. I haven't sent in my RSVP. I'm terrible about stuff like that.”

TW

Stiles paid for the ice cream cone and started walking with Danny. It was too hot for them to sit on a park bench in the sun, so they agreed they would eat as they walked somewhere with air conditioning.

“So, you do computers?” Stiles asked Danny with feigned interest. He knew enough about them to help fix Scott's laptop whenever his roommate downloaded virus-infected porn, but he wouldn't ever claim to be an expert. Tablets were much more his speed.

“I work as a reseller of refurbished PCs, actually. Running Linux. It's a growing market, and open source is the future. Apple is so two years ago. It's why my phone is running Android, to be honest.”

Nodding, Stiles listened as Danny explained the different ways to install Ubuntu on a computer, since it was the most new user-friendly version of Linux. He didn't understand most of it, but he wasn't really trying to understand it. He was focusing most of his attention on Danny's dimples.

“You really don't care about this, do you?” Danny laughed as he slung an arm around Stiles' shoulder. It hung loosely, so Stiles didn't shrug it off, but he did remain aware of it.

“Sorry. I'm not that big of a techie. None of us are,” Stiles explained as he licked the chocolate ice cream dripping down his cone before it could reach his hand. “We only have the one computer, unless you count mine and Allison's tablets.”

“Your roommates?” Danny shrugged as he asked. Stiles nodded in the affirmative, so Danny continued. “Scott, that was his name, right? Yeah, he seemed cool. When do I meet Allison?”

“Probably when she gets home from work. You might have already heard her this morning. She was the one screaming obscenities at me as left the apartment. Mornings are not her friend.”

Danny laughed before taking a bite out of his strawberry cone.

“What do you do for fun?” Stiles inquired as he mimicked Danny and bit a large portion off the top of his cone. He licked his lips clean and stepped away from the road as a semi drove by. Danny's arm fell from Stiles' shoulder, and his hand came to rest in Stiles' back pocket, slipping between the denim of his jeans and his wallet. It was a brave move, and Stiles silently approved.

“Besides build computers? I have a D&D game I held once a week, but with the move I had to quit my old game. I figure I'll pop down to the local comic shop and meet some people who'll let me join theirs.” Danny bit into his cone again, spilling some of the ice cream on his shirt. He used his occupied hand to scoop it off and then licked the side of his hand clean. As Stiles listened to Danny, he realized that he was a geek in a jock's body.

“I've never done a tabletop RPG, but I do like video games. Have you ever heard of Shin Megami Tensei?” Stiles interjected when Danny stopped to breathe. “We don't have a TV at my place, but I have a PSP and sometimes I play Persona 3 on it.”

“I've only played the Persona games from that series, but I really liked them. I used to game a lot, actually, back when I was still in high school and college. But then you graduate and get a job and your friends all get married and have kids and blah blah blah I'm talking all about me. What are you into?” Danny gave Stiles' ass cheek a gentle squeeze through the denim.

“Um, I uh, I listen to a lot of music. And I game, like I said. I used to write and stuff, but the medication kind of killed it for me,” he explained as Danny's fingers forced themselves to the front of his thoughts.

“Medication?” Danny's grip relaxed, but his hand stayed buried in Stiles' pocket.

“The ADHD.” Stiles pointed at his temple and grinned. “It's settled a bit since the puberty ended and I'm no longer a walking sack of hormones, but I still take the pills everyday. And they suck the creativity right out of my head. But it's better than bouncing off the walls, I guess.”

His ice cream had melted onto his hand, but Stiles just licked it clean as he watched Danny's reaction. He noticed Danny's eyes were concentrated on his tongue. Inwardly, Stiles smiled, but outwardly he took another bite of ice cream.

“Huh,” Danny nodded at Stiles. He didn't say anything else, but he didn't withdraw his hand from the pocket, so Stiles took it as a positive silence.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, and Stiles finished his cone before Danny. The tall Hawaiian offered the remainder of his to his date. Not wanting to be impolite, Stiles thanked him and accepted. There wasn't much left, more cone than ice cream.

Danny pulled his hand from Stiles' pocket and put it back around his shoulder. Stiles wasn't sure where he preferred it.

“This is awkward,” Stiles pointed out after finishing the last of Danny's cone. “Like, we have nothing else to talk about.”

“We need to talk to enjoy each other's company?” Danny wondered. Stiles laughed at how pretentious the statement was. For his part, Danny just offered a confused look.

“Sorry, it's just that I don't know how to do the quiet appreciation thing. Every other person I've ever dated, and even my roommates, they all talked all the time. I'm used to talking all the time. So when things calm down and get quiet I get nervous. And when I get nervous I just want to talk, and it doesn't matter what I'm talking about. I just need to say something.”

“Oh. Well, I don't date much, so I don't know how the whole dating thing goes. I'm usually busy with work, since I have irregular hours. I didn't know conversation was a staple,” Danny replied apologetically.

“It's fine. And how could someone as hot as you not date?” Stiles said without thinking.

“Um, thanks,” Danny chuckled. “I had a boyfriend all through college, and we didn't talk all that much. So it kind of stuck with me. This... this us talking right now thing? It's so far out of my comfort zone. Which is what I wanted to do when I asked you out last night. I'm trying to push my boundaries: expand my horizons. Whatever you want to call it.”

“I get that. I don't date much either. I haven't had anything serious since I broke up with my ex-girlfriend a couple years ago. The last time and only time I was involved with a guy was a mess, which I will not bore you with as I don't want to scare you away.”

“So we're using each other?” Danny mused as he stopped. Stiles continued a couple steps until he felt Danny's arm slide away.

Cocking his head, Stiles looked at Danny. “That's a bad thing?”

“Not at all.”

Danny stepped up and kissed Stiles. It was unexpected, to say the least, but Stiles slid his arms around Danny's waist and pulled him closer. He had forgotten how nice kissing felt.

Breaking the kiss, Danny stepped back and looked at Stiles' mouth, as if appreciating his own handiwork.

“Well, hello there neighbour,” Stiles said dumbly. He blinked his confusion away. “That was good.”

“Just good?” Danny laughed, only this this time it was much fuller and less polite than the calm laughter he'd shared before. It was raucous and gruff and much more excitable to Stiles' ear. “Man, it has been awhile.”

“You could always try again,” Stiles suggested with a goofy grin. He wasn't serious, but he didn't mind if Danny was.

“I think I'll leave a little mystery. Something to look forward to if we do this again.” Danny nodded curtly, but a flirtatious haze hung over his eyes. Then he blinked and it was gone. “So, you wanted to talk. Pick a topic. Just leave religion and politics for the dinner table.”

“I don't know what to talk about. I'm boring and reactive,” Stiles pointed out as though Danny were supposed to know this, even though they hadn't even known each other for twenty-four hours. “I just like to talk.”

“Well, talk about yourself. I don't know much about you,” Danny prodded as he walked away from Stiles and to a secondhand clothing store. “Look, they have AC!”

“There really isn't much to me. My mom died when I was a kid, my dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills. I work in fast food and spend all of my free time being misanthropic with my roommates. They're equally boring.”

“Social lives are overrated,” Danny agreed as he held the door to the store so Stiles could pass through. “Believe me, if I could, I would do nothing but sit at home all day getting fat and playing video games. As nature intended.”

“I feel your pain. All I want to do is listen to music and veg. I'd probably smoke pot, but Scott has asthma and they have drug testing at work, so whatever.”

“Random mention of casual drug use,” Danny shrugged as he followed Stiles over to a table full of scarves. Both men began randomly picking through them. “My friend Jackson smokes, but he's self-employed and his dad is rich, so it doesn't really matter. Besides, he has a prescription for his stress.

“Me? I can't touch the stuff. I had a bad trip my first time and it soured me on the whole deal.”

“I'll make sure to remain not lighting up in your vicinity,” Stiles snorted. Danny picked up a long, red scarf that looked like it was made out of silk and he slung it around Stiles' neck. “Um, I'm not really the scarf type. I was looking for something for Scott.”

“It still looks good on you, though I think this one would look better.” Danny pulled the red one off and loosely wrapped a green cotton scarf around Stiles' neck. Danny ran his hand along the length of the scarf, his knuckles brushing against Stiles' collarbone. “I knew I was right. Shame you don't like scarves.”

“I know. I'm the worst hipster ever.” Stiles took the scarf off and handed it back to Danny. “Besides, if I did get it, my roommate Allison would probably steal it. She's the real scarf addict.”

“But I thought you were looking to get Scott one?”

“They share them, to be honest. She uses his more than he uses hers, though. He's not big on Hello Kitty.” Stiles smiled at the memory of Allison dressing Scott from head to toe in Hello Kitty gear after he lost a card game. “Do you ever play cards?”

“People still play cards? Is this a betting thing?”

Stiles shook his head. “Nah, no betting for cash. I just figured you could come over some time and play cards with us. Get to know me and mine better. Like I said, we're boring.”

With a wry smile, Danny folded the scarf but didn't put it down. “So, I take it you guys are a packaged deal?

“Pretty much. We're always up in each other's business. It's something you learn to live with,” Stiles noted to Danny's back as the man walked up to the register.

TW

“He bought you a scarf, even after you said you didn't want it?” Allison looked at Stiles as they walked with Scott. “That's kind of something, but I'm not sure what.”

“He told me that I didn't have to wear it. He just wanted me to have it, in case I changed my mind. I don't think I will, but it was meant as a kind gesture. I think. It's not like he was being all Lydia about it and telling me to wear it or else.”

“Regardless, dude has good taste. Thanks for the loaner,” Scott said to Stiles as he spun, watching the ends of the scarf dance in the air. “Man, I hope The Betas brought the CDs tonight. I always forget to buy one.”

“Why not just buy the album digitally? They're on Amazon. I checked,” Allison mentioned as she fought the urge to reach out and hold Scott still. He kept twirling on the sidewalk, and it was getting on her nerves. She needed coffee and soon.

“Because the CD has exclusive tracks. Greenberg came with me one night after work and bought one. He told me it's almost as awesome as their live performances.” Scott stopped twirling and Allison felt her blood pressure begin to lower back to a normal level. “He's also friends with one of the members of the band. The cello player: you know, the black guy.”

“Isn't Greenberg that orderly that I hate?” Allison wondered idly as they approached the coffee shop. She pulled at her own scarf and briefly played with the hat perched atop her head.

“You hate all my co-workers, though,” Scott replied. Allison responded with a smirk.

“Can I just ask that you guys not mention Danny in front of Derek? I mean, yeah, we haven't even had out date yet, but I don't need to him know I'm seeing someone else.” Stiles looked nervous as he spared a glance at the scarf around Scott's neck.

“Yeah, yeah, how stupid do you think we are, Stiles?” Scott giggled. “We're not gonna tell anybody anything about your sordid love triangle.”

“Dude, at least I know the names of the people I make out with,” Stiles retorted as he stuck out his tongue. He then ducked under an intentionally slow punch Scott threw at him. At least they were both in good moods. It calmed her nerves slightly.

Allison was nervous because she had no idea what she was going to do when she walked into the Hale-owned coffee shop. It also occurred to her that she still didn't know the name of the place she had just taken to frequenting.

And as Scott and Stiles teased each other, Allison flashed back to the night prior. The awkwardness with Erica, the massive personality shifts, the way Allison had dodged the kiss: they all just proved that Allison just wasn't ready for a relationship. She would simply wait for the violinist to take a break, calmly explain to her that she was not interested, and then move on with her life.

Biting her bottom lip, Allison stepped between Scott and Stiles. Her fingers wrapped around the cold metal of the handle and pulled the door open. The sound of a cello solo greeted her ears, and Derek Hale serving tea to a black girl wearing a red wig greeted her eyes. She stepped out of the humidity and into the cool air of the coffee shop, her boys following on her heels. Stiles was notably quiet.

“Oh, hey guys! What can I do for ya?” Derek called happily after the other customer wandered away. Allison made a point of focusing on his face and not looking at the stage.

“Howdy, Derek,” Scott greeted cheerfully as he walked up to the counter and pulled out his wallet. He gestured for Stiles and Allison to accompany him. Both did so rather apprehensively. Derek noticed, if the look on his face was any indication, but he said nothing. Scott was oblivious.

“I'll have a French Vanilla latte,” Stiles ordered with a nervous smile as he stood beside Scott. Derek gave him the once over and nodded, then looked at Allison.

“Just a black coffee,” she said since she couldn't think of anything else to order. She didn't even hear what Scott ordered. All she could focus on was the sound of a bow dancing on violin strings.

Putting a hand on Scott's shoulder and giving a healthy squeeze, Allison muttered something to him she couldn't remember and strode over to a table and sat down. She could see Erica up on stage, too into her music to notice who was in the crowd. The other two musicians were just as oblivious to their surroundings. Which, Allison supposed, was a nice contrast to her own sudden hyper awareness. As she struggled not to look at Erica, she took stock of everything else. The condition of the ceiling tiles, the number of people occupying seats, even the price tags on the art hanging on the walls: nothing escaped Allison's notice.

“Are you okay? You didn't even wait to get your coffee,” Scott asked as he sat across from Allison, his back to the stage. The worry in his eyes and voice was enough to snap her out of her reverie. He slid a cup atop a saucer over the table to her.

“I'm fine. Just wanted to get a good seat,” she answered with a fake smile as she nodded at the stage. The song had changed and she hadn't noticed. “You didn't get anything?”

“Stiles is gonna bring it. Our orders weren't as simple as yours. Besides, I don't think he wanted to be alone with Derek, which is why I did it. He's all weird about the Danny thing,” Scott said with a small smile. “Our boy is growing up. Soon, he'll be wanting to drive and wear black rimmed glasses without a prescription.”

Hunching her shoulders and leaning forward, Allison held her coffee cup, but didn't lift it. She let the heat waft up into her face. Her eyes flicked from the brown liquid to Scott's equally brown eyes and back again.

“Scott, do you ever think about where we would be if I hadn't come out? Or if I weren't a lesbian?” she asked in a hushed voice.

After nervously clearing his throat, Scott leaned down and over the table until he could look up into Allison's eyes. “What are you saying? Allison, I admit, it took awhile, but we made peace and moved on. Are you telling me that you aren't gay anymore? Can you even not be gay anymore?”

Allison sighed. She really should've had this conversation at home, or preferably not at all. She hadn't even planned on saying anything. “No, Scott, I'm still gay. I'm just not suited to it.”

Scott's hands were warm as they wrapped themselves around hers. He sat back up, and she looked up into his face. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't frowning. His mouth just kind of hung open as he clearly struggled with what to say.

“Allison, I don't understand. How can you not be suited to being gay? Isn't that like me not being suited to being Latino? I mean, that's how you were born. It's not like you can suddenly stop liking girls anymore than I can stop being brown. And, you know, it's okay to be gay. Right?”

A small smile briefly played at Allison's lips. She released her mug and turned her hands until her palms were against Scott's. Their finger interlocked of their own accord and Allison shook her head, her hat threatening to fall off but not quite doing so.

“This isn't some latent self-loathing thing, Scott. This is just me not being comfortable. The only woman I've had as a friend in the last three years was Lydia. Lydia! And you remember where that went. And I haven't dated since we broke up.

“Last night, when I was out, I was miserable. I didn't know it at the time, but I hated it. All I wanted to do was go home and hang with you and Stiles, but you two seem to have blossomed overnight. Stiles has this new neighbour guy and Derek both sniffing around him, you have this unnamed girl, and I'm too freaked out by the thought of even kissing another woman to calm down.

“I'm a lesbian who is only comfortable around men. Isn't that hysterical?” Allison didn't think it was, so she didn't even try to fake a laugh. Scott clearly agreed with her. “No, it's not. I really think my mom messed me up. My dad, too, by not stopping her. Y'know? I mean, even if I don't talk to them anymore, I still love them.”

“Allison...” Scott was still struggling with what to say, but she felt better saying what she needed to say and just having him there, holding her hands and not judging her. He was a great friend. “You know I love you, right? I mean, not like I did when we were together, but like a sister. Now, that is.”

“I know, Scott,” she replied cautiously.

“Allison, you can't let your mom ruin you. Whether you decide to stay single for the rest of your life or not, you need to do it because you want to do it. Don't even think about her anymore. She made her call the day she cut you out of her life. So did your dad. You know my mom loves you and Stiles both like you were her own kids. Talk to her. She's the one who helped me the most when we broke up. Or talk to a therapist, if you can get one with your crappy insurance. Hell, you can even talk to an imam or a pastor or something if you want. But you can't go through your life being afraid of being yourself.

“If any woman is able to get to know you the way I did, she's the luckiest woman in the world. And if not, then I'll always be here to listen to you. But just talk to someone.”

Scott's hands squeezed Allison's. They looked at each other, continuing their conversation without words. He was telling her that he loved her unconditionally, and she told him she knew. Stiles joined them at the table, carrying two piping hot cups of coffee, and he saw them staring into each other's eyes and holding hands.

“What Lifetime Original Movie moment did I just miss?” he asked as he set the cups on the table, saucers rattling, and grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat next to Allison.

“Scott was just giving me some advice on my Erica problem,” Allison half-lied. He hadn't actually mentioned the blonde musician, but he had led her to the solution she needed.

“She's a problem now?” Stiles inquired with thinly disguised disinterest as he looked back at Derek.

“Poor choice of words, I guess, but it's no longer one,” Allison assured them both as she withdrew her hands from Scott's and sat back, waiting for the jazz trio to go on break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys are liking this story. It seems you are, since this is my most read non-one shot fic on AO3. Just letting you know I appreciate the support.


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles stared at Scott. Scott was wearing a grey fedora and the green scarf that Danny had purchased for him. That wasn't the problem. His best friend did look better in the scarf than Stiles ever would. The problem was that Scott was even there at all. Just on impulse, he stood on tiptoes and looked around to see if Allison was nearby, too.

“What are you doing here?” Stiles asked Scott in a low whisper as he sneaked up on his friend.

Jumping slightly, Scott turned around and stared at Stiles with his mouth hanging half-open. He didn't say anything, so Stiles repeated himself.

“Did Allison send you to spy on me?” Stiles added as he crossed his arms. “Like, this is my date night with Derek and the last thing I need is my best friend playing third wheel.”

“Actually,” Scott played with the scarf wrapped around his neck, “I kind of have a date tonight, too. With Elise.”

“Nameless roof girl actually exists? Dude, you have to introduce me. But why are you guys coming here? This is a showing for Derek's sister. You aren't dating Derek's sister, are you?”

“Unless Derek's sister is black, it's safe to say I'm not. Besides, I've met Cora a few times when she was helping out as a server. She's kind of... tense,” Scott said with a dismissive wave. He looked around, and Stiles followed his line of sight. “I'm gonna guess Elise is inside. She sent me a text saying she was already here, but I figured she would've waited for me.” 

“You realize I'm following you around until I meet this gal, right?” Stiles noted as he put a hand on Scott's shoulder and pushed him towards the entrance to the dance studio. “Derek won't get here until nine-thirty, anyway. I came early just so I wouldn't be late.”

“Don't embarrass me. I like this girl,” Scott warned with a resigned sigh as he gave in to Stiles' demand.

With a sarcastic scoff, Stiles jumped onto Scott's back as soon as they passed the threshold. He wrapped his legs around Scott's waist and pointed into the air with one hand while gripping onto Scott's shoulder with the other. “I would never embarrass you!”

Stiles laughed as Scott tried to shrug him off, grasping even tighter. The people in the studio ignored their horseplay. They all milled about idly, looking at photos and talking to themselves and occasionally each other in hushed tones.

They two men were approached by two women, and Stiles finally released himself from Scott. One woman was about Scott's height, with dark black skin and hair pulled up into two big puffs that stuck out from the sides of her head. He guessed she was Elise. The other woman was white and had her light brown hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. She stood taller than her companion, but wasn't quite as tall as Stiles. They both wore black dresses, but the white girl's had shoulder straps and the black girl's was strapless.

“Howdy, Scrubs,” the black girl said warmly as she walked up to Scott and pulled him into a hug. “Love the scarf. It compliments your eyes.”

“Thanks, Elise,” Scott grinned at her. Stiles fought the urge to roll his eyes. He hoped he didn't come across that sappy when Derek showed up. Or ever, to be honest.

“Your name isn't Elise...” the while girl trailed off as she looked at her friend.

“It is tonight. I told you Scrubs was coming, remember?” the girl whose name wasn't Elise said as she grabbed Scott by the arm and pull him to her side. “Scrubs, this is my friend Cora. This whole shindig is about her.”

“Scott McCall, nice to meet you,” Scott replied with a widening grin as he shook Cora's hand. Cora looked at Stiles with an eyebrow raised. Noticing this, Scott introduced his friend. “This is my buddy, Stiles. I had no idea he was coming until about three minutes ago.”

“Oh, you're Derek's new boy toy?” Cora inquired as she looked Stiles up and down with an unimpressed frown. He had the vague notion to hide behind Scott. “Small world. You're young.”

She didn't offer to shake Stiles' hand, so he shoved them both into his pockets and hunched up his shoulders. “I'm not that young.”

“You look like you're my age,” Cora said with a mix of antagonism and disinterest that almost caused Stiles' head to implode from the cognitive dissonance. “Whatever.”

Cora wandered away, and Scott looked at Stiles apologetically as his date pulled him in the direction of the catering table.

Left to his own devices after a series of awkward introductions, Stiles picked a removable wall of photos and began casually looking at them. His idea of art was rather old-fashioned: paintings, drawings, maybe poetry. Scott and Allison were the more contemporary ones, going to spoken word events and poetry slams. Though, Stiles mused with amusement, poetry slams weren't exactly the most modern invention.

The photographs were nice, he supposed, but they weren't anything special. The ones with the black and white filters were more interesting. Stiles assumed it was a case of the novelty effect at work.

He did stop when he saw a photo of a familiar looking redhead, though. He supposed it was possible, Lydia and he may have broken up, but she did still live in town. It wasn't a frontal or even profile shot. It was a pic of a girl from behind.

Closing his eyes, Stiles moved into another aisle of pictures. There was a small crowd, maybe four people, gathered around a fifth who was talking animatedly. Stiles couldn't make out what she was saying, but he recognized the voice. It was the voice of the girl in the photo.

“Yes, Sir, everything here is for sale. Each piece starts at fifty dollars, but some are negotiable. You would have to speak with my client about the specifics. She insists on being part of all transactions,” Lydia Martin said smartly to a sweaty, balding man.

Stiles silently appraised her from afar. She was a little older, and her hair was shorter and her fashion reflected current trends, but she looked like the Lydia he had once loved. He wondered what he had done to deserve this coincidence.

Lydia motioned with her hands for the group to follow her, and they started in Stiles' direction. She stopped when she saw him, a flash of hurt in her eyes. He opted to turn around and walk away. He heard Lydia begin her spiel to the people over a new set of pictures. Her voice had reached that controlled calmness one only picked up on after extended exposure to it.

TW

The phone rang through to the voice mail for the fifth time that hour. Allison hung up before she heard her father's voice. She threw her phone across the room and it hit the wall, the back flying off when it crashed to the floor. There wasn't enough energy in Allison's heart to care.

With a laboured sigh, she sat at the table and stared at the percolator. She hated how one bad experience could make her reevaluate how she felt about her life. Hadn't she been happy being single and pathetic with Scott and Stiles? Why did they have to go and have a semblance of a normal social life when her already meagre life began falling apart?

Not that it was all that dramatic. There was no screaming match, Erica didn't become a crazy stalker obsessed with Allison. Allison just let the jazz player know that she was no longer interested, and they parted company. It was all very clean and amicable.

But then Scott and Stiles both left for dates and she stayed behind, trying to summon up the courage to call her parents. And neither one would answer a phone. She wondered if they were ignoring her. They probably were. She hadn't tried to talk to them in years. She didn't even know if the numbers she had dialled were still current. The voice mail messages were automated.

Allison did not want to be home. She also did not want to go out alone. Her internal dramatization made her want to believe it was some messed up form of co-dependency with her roommates, but she knew it was probably just apathy. Her spirits were so low she didn't even want to surf the internet or read a book.

Then her phone rang. Allison ran over to it and saw that it was Stiles calling. Her heart fluttered to life and she made sure to hold the battery in place as she answered.

“Wow, the date is going this bad already? Need me to call with an emergency in five minutes or something?” she chuckled into the phone before Stiles could speak.

“Actually, it hasn't started yet,” Stiles told Allison. His voice was shaky and she knew something big was happening, and that it couldn't be good. “Allison, Lydia is here.”

“That bitch,” Allison growled into the phone as her nails dug into the palm of her hand. “Stiles, do you need me to come wherever you are and drag her away by her hair?”

There was a nervous laugh on the other end of the call. “It's not all that serious. I was looking more for you to talk me down before I do something stupid like try to talk to her. Because nobody wants that.”

“Not after how she treated you. I'll try to resist the urge to run down there and ruin your date with a catfight,” Allison assured Stiles halfheartedly. “Just don't approach her. Focus on hot coffee guy.”

“Will do. Thanks for this, Allison.”

“Anytime.” She hung up and smiled. She liked being needed. The boys were so messy at everything that it distracted her from her own woes.

So Allison thought about Lydia. How the four of them had hung out together briefly, even lived together for a few months. Then Lydia just vanished. She'd tried to call Allison a few times after the breakup with Stiles, but the three friends had agreed to cut her out of their lives entirely. Sometimes Allison regretted that decision. She missed having another girl around, even one who was incredibly vain and self-important. But mostly Allison regretted not punching Lydia in the face.

And then Allison buried her head face in her hands in shame for even thinking it.

TW

“Huh,” Scott said with a cocked head. Elise casually held his hand, her eyes following his as he stared at the redhead. “That's Stiles' ex-girlfriend. Didn't expect to see her here.”

“She's Cora's agent or art dealer or whatever they call them. She set this whole thing up,” Elise explained as she turned her focus from Lydia and to a photo hanging over Scott's shoulder. He shrugged and looked at the picture. It made his blood run cold.

Looking back to Lydia, Scott noted that she was wearing long sleeves. Then he looked back to the picture. She had the same haircut, and she was laughing. That wasn't what bothered Scott.

“You're tense, Scrubs. Is it Lydia? You didn't have a thing with her, too, did you?” Elise wondered with a disinterested sigh.

“Do you know the guy in that picture with her? The one with his hand on her arm?” Scott pointed at the image. To the casual observer, it would be no big deal.

“I think that might be her boyfriend. I don't know. Lydia is kind a bitch and I don't ever talk to her if I can avoid it, Scrubs. Why?”

“Because years ago, before she dated my buddy Stiles, Lydia was with this guy and he used to beat the crap out of her. It was bad.”

“Scott...”

“You called me by my name?” he asked in shock as Elise squeezed his hand.

“You go talk to her. See if she is still seeing this guy. I'm going to talk to Cora.”

“Why do you need to talk to Cora?” Scott wondered before his gaze darkened. “Is Jackson here?”

“That's his name? Scrubs, don't do anything stupid and macho. He and his friend are the ones who set everything up. They did it to help Lydia. I'm going to see if she can get him to leave before your friend sees him. I don't think that will go over well. And try to stay away from Jackson. I know how you straight boys do things.”

“I take offence to that,” Scott objected with a smile, but Elise patted him on the arm and released his hand. She offered him a small smile before walking off in search of her friend.

Lydia didn't seem shocked when Scott approached her. She excused herself from the people she was speaking with and walked to him in a huff. “What do you want, McCall? Did Stiles ask you to check up on me because he's too busy playing with his tiny dick to be a man?”

“You know he's here?” Scott didn't know why he was surprised. If he had seen Lydia, it was completely possible that she had seen Stiles. He momentarily wondered if Derek had shown up yet. That would be an interesting discussion.

“I'm not blind, Scott. I saw him, he saw me, and you can tell him that I'm not here to play his games,” Lydia said lowly, so as not to draw anyone's attention. “Listen, just go back to Stiles and tell him to leave me the hell alone. I don't have time for someone who dumps me and throws me out on the street.”

Scott's jaw dropped open and he stared at Lydia in silence. She smirked at him, condescension dripping from her lips.

“Are you going to tell me that you didn't know? Maybe if you and Allison had bothered to speak to me when I tried, you wouldn't be standing here looking like an idiot. But, then again, you've always been an idiot, Scott. Why should that change?” Lydia taunted. “Now, unless you have something to say that isn't about Stiles, I have a job to do.”

“Is Jackson the reason you're wearing those sleeves? Are you back together with him?” he whispered so nobody else could hear.

The flash in her eyes answered his question long before she chose to speak. “I have a job. Excuse me.”

Scott just watched her go. It wasn't like he had any actual power over her, and he didn't feel comfortable thinking that he did. So he just sighed, shook his head, and started walking about to find Elise.

It didn't take long to find her. The exhibit wasn't exactly large. She was watching Cora talk to Jackson. Jackson looked at Elise, confused, then his eyes narrowed when he saw Scott. Recognition and comprehension flashed dangerously in Jackson's eyes, but he stopped whatever argument he had with Cora and walked away. Scott stepped up beside Elise and watched Jackson's retreating back. He suddenly felt like telling Elise anything had been a mistake. At least Stiles hadn't seen anything.

“Scrubs, you look even more worried than you did before. Things didn't go well with Lydia?”

“Things never go well with Lydia,” Scott sighed as his shoulders drooped. “I'm sorry I'm ruining out night out together.”

“Listen, you are doing no such thing. You're being the kind of man I want in my life. You're caring about other people.” Elise stood on the tips of her toes and lightly kissed Scott on the forehead. She lowered herself and looked into his eyes with a smile. “Listen to me, Scrubs. You want to fight a lost cause trying to save the soul of a woman that's damned herself? I want you to know that I find it admirable. Let me talk to Lydia. She doesn't really hate me like she probably hates you. And a woman tends to be less threatening in these situations.”

Elise rubbed her hands on Scott's arms and softly pressed her lips against his before leaving him again. He stood and watched her go, his mouth in a crooked grin. Then Cora brought him back to reality by hissing a threat in his ear.

“If you do anything to ruin this for me, I will make her hate you.”

“Elise doesn't seem the type to let anyone make her do anything,” Scott countered while stepping away from Cora. “Listen, this isn't about you. Did Elise even tell you what's going on?”

“First of all, her name isn't Elise, and the fact that you think it's cute to call her that makes me want to gag. Secondly? I already knew about Lydia and Jackson, you would have to be stupid not to notice. But it's not my business. It's not yours, either. So don't go dragging my friend into your domestic problems.”

Scott almost called Cora a bitch to her face. He almost said a lot of things. But instead he thought of Elise, he thought of the woman that had invited him here, and he walked away.

He walked straight into another patron of the event.

“Oh, hey, sorry,” Scott apologized to the man he didn't even bother to look at.

“Hey, Scott, it's cool,” the man answered. Upon hearing his name from the stranger's mouth, Scott whirled around and saw his new neighbour, Danny, smiling at him. “So, do you know the artist who took these pictures? Or is this a public showing? Jackson didn't exactly tell me. He also didn't tell me that this was a casual thing.”

Scott hadn't noticed that Danny was wearing a tux. What Scott did notice was that Danny had said Jackson's name. Something tingled in the back of Scott's mind, trying to tell him something important, but he pushed it away.

“Oh, you know Jackson?” Scott asked nervously. Even though he himself barely knew Jackson, Scott knew that Jackson knew who he was. Jackson knew who they all were. They were there to watch as he lost a year of his life.

“Yeah, we became friends about two or three years ago,” Danny proffered nervously. Scott had to think of the time line, but when it clicked he snapped his fingers. Then he looked into Danny's eyes. The man was clearly hoping Scott wouldn't put two and two together.

“So, you met Jackson in prison?” Scott's voice was quiet. He was trying not to embarrass Danny, but curiousness was a powerful thing. Despite not wanting to, Scott held up a hand. “You know what, you don't have to tell me. It's none of my business.”

“Thanks,” Danny said as he reached out and took a hold of Scott's hand. Then he shook it, even though Scott hadn't offered a handshake. “Listen, can you not tell Stiles about this? I'm going to, I just don't want to right away.”

“Sure. Just don't mention Jackson to him,” Scott agreed as he removed his hand from Danny's nervous grip. “I don't want to get into it, but I'm just going to say that they don't exactly get along.”

“Small world,” Danny commented, and Scott nodded in agreement.

His mind buzzed with information just out of his grasp. There was something he needed to know.

“Tell Stiles I said 'hey', will you?” Danny asked as his body language instantly relaxed.

“Tell him yourself. He's around here somewhere,” Scott told Danny with a laugh. Then it clicked, and he mentally kicked himself.

Danny's face lit up. “Oh, he is? I don't want to come off as that creepy stalker guy, though. Do you think I should just go?”

Scott very much wanted to nod in the affirmative and usher Danny out the door. But before he could say anything, Stiles walked around one of the removable walls, catching both Scott and Danny's attention. And at Stiles' side was Derek Hale.

TW

Stiles wasn't sure why Derek had walked away the moment Danny told Stiles that he was looking forward to their next date. Sure, he knew logically that Derek walk probably upset that Stiles was sort of seeing someone else, but he had just met both men. Since when did agreeing to one date mean being exclusive?

Seeing Lydia again definitely didn't help matters.

“Did I miss something?” Danny asked as the three of them watched Derek storm off. Stiles entertained the idea of chasing after Derek, but the man was thirty years old and acting like a teenager. If he couldn't deal with one awkward situation, he had no business dating a man with the last name of Stilinski.

“I thought it was something important, but I guess it's not,” Stiles sighed before turning and looking at Danny. “I was on a date with that guy, but I think it might be over.”

Danny blinked in surprise, but he didn't run away. Stiles admired that. “Oh, well, hey. Sorry I ruined it. I think.”

“It's fine,” Stiles waved dismissively before continuing, “I have a feeling I'm about to be uninvited to this thing, so if you'll excuse me, I'll just head home. Enjoy your evening, gentlemen.”

“Do you need a ride? I have a car,” Danny offered. He smiled at Stiles warmly. “It's the least I can do after what just happened with that guy.”

Stiles noticed Scott shifting nervously. He knew better than to ignore it. “Danny, can I think on it?”

“Sure. I guess. Just let me know,” Danny said as he and Scott exchanged a glance. It was a weird moment, something else for Stiles to ask his best friend. “I've been hanging out by the refreshments table most of the night. I love food.”

After thanking Danny and waiting for him to walk out of earshot, Stiles whirled to look at Scott. He could definitely see the panic now. “What is going on? I know this isn't about Derek being all weird. Besides, I'll deal with that whenever. What is going on with you and Danny?”

“You know how Lydia is here?” Scott questioned carefully. Stiles had a feeling he knew what Scott was going to say. He wasn't wrong. “Jackson is with her.”

“That asshole? Why would she go back to him? Good lord,” Stiles groaned before the fury began to set in. “What does that have to do with... Wait. Danny mentioned a friend named Jackson. It's the same guy? It would be the same guy. Why didn't I know that it was the same guy, Scott?”

“How should I know? We literally just met Danny this week,” his friend pointed out. “Stiles, we were there when Lydia put Jackson away. We were there as she put her life back together. Yeah, she was a bitch, but she didn't deserve it then and she doesn't deserve it now. Wasn't there a restraining order or something?”

“She could have had it lifted, and even if she didn't, Lydia is an adult, Scott. What the hell. Why do I even care?” Stiles asked, more to himself than his best friend.

“Because she's a person, Stiles. No matter what happened in the breakup, and I know you didn't tell us everything, she's still a person. Nobody deserves to be beaten like that. That's why you should care, Stiles,” Scott argued, an accusatory finger hanging in front of Stiles' face. “Listen, Elise is trying to talk some sense into Lydia, but you need to not be a dick.”

“Whatever. Go be Captain Save-a-ho, Scott. I'm leaving. Lydia is a grown woman and she's making her own choices.”

Stiles knew he was being harsh, possibly even cruel. He'd seen what Jackson did to her. He took the pictures when Lydia refused to go to the ER. Yes, they'd only been together for six months, but he'd known her for a year before that. They'd been co-workers. They'd been friends. But Lydia was getting her degree from art school and wanted more than what Beacon Hills had to offer. She wanted more than Stiles.

He didn't go get Danny. Stiles didn't trust himself around Danny, to not say something that would screw up whatever they were toying with starting. Standing by the exit was Derek, looking apologetic. He stepped up to say something to Stiles, to possibly apologize for running off. Stiles didn't hear it. He sidestepped his date and continued out the door.

When he saw Jackson, Stiles ran through the options in his mind. Various forms of assault and murder played in his mind's eye. He chose to walk away.


	7. Chapter 7

The evening was awkward. Stiles had left Scott behind, and for his part Scott felt obligated to tell Derek Danny that Stiles had left. It seemed Derek already knew. He just sadly nodded at Scott's words, then excused himself. Scott didn't bother dwelling on Derek's odd behaviour.

He had sought out Elise, to tell her what was happening, but she was still talking with Lydia, so he met Danny by the refreshments. Scott's neighbour hadn't seemed surprised that Stiles left without saying anything, just confused at to why.

Scott told him that he would explain it later. And he would. Danny seemed like a nice guy, despite being an ex-con. So Danny extended his offer of a ride home to Scott, after things ended. After tentatively accepting, Scott excused himself to wander around until Elise had finished talking to him.

Then he ran into Cora and rather forcefully insisted that Scott leave. She wouldn't even let him tell Elise goodbye. Having decided that there had been enough trouble, Scott reluctantly agreed. Danny caught a glimpse of Cora escorting Scott out and followed.

That was how he ended up riding in Danny's car. That was only half the story. True to his word, Scott had Danny stop at a greasy little all night diner. They ordered drinks and Scott also ordered a large plate of fries. Danny opted not to eat.

“Thank you,” Scott said to his grumpy looking waitress when she brought them their drinks. Scott stirred the ice water with his straw.

“I don't want to be that guy, but you're the one who insisted that you had things to tell me.” Danny broke the tension by looking directly into Scott's eyes. “Something went down with you and Jackson, I take it. And that's why Stiles left.”

Scott steepled his fingers and pressed them to his forehead, searching for the words. He was sure that Elise had noticed he was gone by now, and he only hoped that she had gotten his apologetic text.

“Did you know why Jackson was in prison?” Scott asked Danny. “I mean, did he tell you why he was there?”

“Assault. He got in a fight,” Danny answered. “He said the other guy got it a hell of a lot worse than he did, so the courts ruled against him.”

“The other guy was a woman, Danny,” Scott looked down to his drink but didn't touch it. “It was Lydia, to be specific. But I'm not sure how much I should tell you. It's not exactly my place.”

Danny didn't say anything. He just sat and stared at Scott, one hand wrapped around his glass of soda and the other gripping the side of the table. The waitress turned up with his fries, and Scott thanked her. She just grunted and walked to another table.

Without even thinking, Scott pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the fries. After putting it away, he noted Danny's elevated eyebrows. “I was going to upload it to Instagram later.”

A blink was the only response Scott's explanation received before Danny returned to the original topic of conversation.

“You never told me how you know all of this, Scott.”

“I was there for the tail end of it. Lydia and Stiles were together not long after Jackson was... incarcerated. I hadn't seen her after they broke up until tonight,” Scott stopped to take a sip of his water. “

“Really? Small world. Hard to believe Stiles was still in the closet that recently, though. The guy pinged my gaydar right away.” Danny smiled in amusement, and Scott felt himself relax.

A thought occurred to him, and even though it wasn't really his place, Scott ran with it. “Um, Danny, you do that Stiles isn't gay, right? He's bisexual.”

“Oh. Well, never dated a bisexual guy before. Also, this got weird really fast. You realize I'm going to have to look into this, right? I can't just take your word for it. I don't really know you.”

“You have to... look into Stiles being bisexual? How do you do that?” Scott was flabbergasted.

Danny actually laughed at Scott. “No, man! I'm talking about Jackson. Listen, if what you're saying is true, I can't have someone like that in my life. I can tolerate a lot of things. I'm no saint myself. But a man hitting a woman? That is well beyond what is okay.”

Scott looked at his fries, no longer as hungry as he had been when he ordered them. He slid them to the middle of the table. “Want some?”

Danny gave Scott a look that questioned the legitimacy of the offer, and Scott nodded his assurance.

“Don't think I haven't noticed that you're wearing the scarf I bought Stiles. It looks good on you, though,” Danny noted before popping a couple of fries into his mouth.

“Aw, thank you,” Scott smiled before grabbing a small handful of fries himself. They were greasy, but had sat long enough that they were hot but not scalding. “I never get compliments anymore. Nice tux, by the way.”

With a wink, Danny thanked him. “Also, just for the record, I'm not hitting on you, Scott.”

“The thought never even occurred to me,” Scott assured Danny. “Besides, even if I were into guys, Stiles is into you and I couldn't do him like that.”

Scott's pocket began vibrating, and he saw that it was Elise calling. Excusing himself, he stood up from the table and headed to the exit to answer the call.

“I am so, so sorry I left without telling you, but Stiles walked out and then Cora threw me out and...” Scott started mumbling before being cut off.

“It's fine, Scrubs. I got your text. I'll be talking with Cora about how to treat my paramours in the future. You know I don't condone what she did, right?” Before Scott could answer, she continued. “And I thought you'd want to know that Lydia completely blew me off. I really tried, but we're acquaintances at best and she just told me, repeatedly, that it was none of my business.”

“Well, thanks for trying. You have no idea how much I appreciate that, Elise.”

Elise's voice sounded very much like how Scott always imagined a smile would sound. “It's Braeden, Scrubs. My name is Braeden. Good night.”

“Good night, Braeden,” Scott said cheerfully before disconnecting the call. His heart was lifted and he headed back into the restaurant where Danny and an empty plate awaited him.

“I was hungrier than I thought,” Danny explained, causing Scott to laugh. Scott sat back down in the booth opposite Danny and grabbed his glass of water, waiting for the check to arrive.

TW

Allison wasn't surprised when Stiles came in, though she thought it was rather early. His dour mood made her guess that things hadn't gone well.

“Do you want to talk about? What did that bitch Lydia do? She didn't ruin your date, did she?” Allison threw the questions out in such quick succession that Stiles couldn't even begin to form an answer. The frustration on his face made her shut her mouth.

“Listen, I'm going to get a shower and go to bed. Maybe I'll be up to talking in the morning,” Stiles sighed as he looked away from Allison. “I don't want to throw you out, but can you maybe take a walk or something? I don't want to yell at you over something stupid.”

“That is the definition of throwing me out, Stiles,” Allison argued while standing up. “But because I'm not in the mood for fighting, I'll grant you this one request. But you owe me for this.”

“Whatever,” Stiles grumbled dismissively.

The door slamming shut behind her was louder than Allison had intended. Some neighbour would probably complain about it. The woman doubted that she would care.

Not only had she spent a significant portion of the day trying to contact her parents through traditional channels, but she had also set up an appointment with a counsellor. It was a government subsidized thing, so the session was supposed to be super cheap.

Allison needed cheap. It wasn't like being a janitor at a public radio station was exactly a high paying gig.

She was also sick of having to take a walk any time someone she lived with was having a personal issue. Pulling out his phone and sticking in her ear buds, Allison shrugged and sat in the public hallway. Cleaning floors for a living gave her insight into just how dirty the hall was, and it was cleaner than her apartment.

As the plinking of a keyboard vibrated into her ears, Allison's phone vibrated in her hand. It was a text from Scott: a picture, to be specific. She opened it and saw what looked like a tall man sitting in front of an empty plate. Looking up close, she saw that it was their neighbour Danny, whom Allison had yet to talk to or get more than a glimpse of. How was she supposed to know if she approved of him if she couldn't talk to him. 

She was also wondering why he was wearing a tux and hanging out with Scott in what looked like Allison's favourite late night diner. The temptation to show the photo to Stiles and interrogate him was strong. Allison just wasn't up to dealing with his bitchy mood.

As a compromise, Allison stood up and decided to meet them there. It wasn't a long walk. She sent Scott a text telling him what to order and that she'd be there. The distraction was necessary. Focusing on a life that wasn't her own was always necessary.

Without even waiting for Scott to reply, Allison rose to her feet and looked at her door. Stiles was probably brooding on the other side over something stupid. Even when he was with Lydia, he did that shit. A mental note was made to ask him about how things went with Lydia.

Allison was just stepping out of the building when she got Scott's reply. It told her that they'd already left, that they were only a few blocks from home. Since she knew they were likely taking the most direct way home, she knew which direction they were coming from. Allison removed her ear buds and called Scott.

“Allison, we're almost there. What's so important you had to call?” Scott didn't even offer a greeting as when he answered the phone.

“Can you see if Danny will do me a favour, even though we've never met? Let him know that being on my good side is tantamount to his survival if he and Stiles don't implode,” Allison ordered as she shoved her ear buds into her jacket pocket.

It was a few seconds before Allison received an answer, as a red car that Allison guessed was from the late nineties pulled up to the curb where she was waiting. The window rolled down and Allison watched as Scott hung up his phone. He hung out the window and briefly stared at her with an opened mouth before speaking.

“Why don't you ask him yourself?” Scott proposed to Allison before retracting himself back into the car and putting a hand on Danny's shoulder. “Allison, this is our neighbour Danny, whom you've yet to be properly introduced. Danny, this is my demanding but usually kind roommate and friend She has a question for you.”

Reaching into her back pocket and pulling out her wallet, Allison held it up while squatting against the car door so that she was at eye level with the men. “Hi, Danny, nice to meet you. Is there any chance you can drive me somewhere? I'll give you gas money. I'd say it could wait, but Stiles is kind of pouting in the apartment and I don't really care if he's embarrassed that I'm telling you that.”

Danny gave a small smile that show he was amused. He leaned forward, and Scott's hand fell from his shoulder. “Sure, why not, it's not like we've ever met. Scott can ride in the back.”

Groaning, Scott motioned for Allison to stand back. She did so and watched him open the car door. He climbed out, folded the passenger seat forward, and then climbed in the back. Allison positioned the seat back to wear it belonged and sat in the car. The door closed with a thud and the seat belt fastened with a click.

Allison offered Danny a smile, a ten dollar bill, and her thanks. “It's not far from here, actually. It's still in town, just in another neighbourhood. Do you know Beacon Hills well?”

Taking the offered currency, Danny stuck it in the visor overhead. “It's not a problem. Really. Where we going?”

Scott's gasp didn't distract Allison as she gave Danny the address of their destination. When she finished, she turned to look at Scott and his shocked face.

“Allison, why are we going to your dad's house, and why are we doing it now?” Scott asked her warily. His hand snaked around the seat and rested on her forearm comfortingly. “The man didn't even talk to you at your mother's funeral.”

Danny stopped at a red light. Allison pulled her arm back just enough that she was holding Scott's hand. When he squeezed it, she felt a weight lifted from her shoulders.

“Turn right at the next light,” Allison suggested to Danny even though she was sure he knew to turn there. He nodded silently, a nervous energy surrounding him. She supposed it was only natural, listening to this conversation between complete strangers. She didn't much care.

The look in Scott's eyes showed that, even if she didn't answer, he would still support her. She loved him for that.

TW

Stiles stared at his phone as it rung in his hand, Derek's name on the screen. His head was so messed up. Between his problematic history with Lydia rearing its ugly head and Danny being friends with Jackson, he'd forgotten to be mad at Derek. And he'd enjoyed the three minutes they'd spent together before they ran into Danny, too.

“Hello?” Stiles sighed into his phone as he answered the call. He didn't owe Derek anything, but he did deserve an explanation.

“I'm sorry. Really sorry. Did I come off mad? I didn't mean to be mad. I freaked,” Derek gushed into the phone in the span of one breath. It reminded Stiles of how he had been in high school, when he was still taking the meds. Awful a few breaths, Derek managed to calm himself. “It's Derek, but the way. I wanted to apologize for tonight.”

“You should,” Stiles agreed, neither accepting nor rejecting the apology. “Listen, is the lack of exclusivity going to be a thing? Because I'm willing to overlook it once, but I need to know now.”

There really was no reason for Stiles to give Derek another chance. They'd had a small handful of conversations before their first date, and they were fun, but they weren't magical. His decision was really up to however Derek answered.

“I can't say it won't. I'm human, I get jealous. It's not an excuse, but I told you that I'm not the most sociable person, right?” Derek sounded nervous. He sounded younger than Stiles, actually. Being the emotionally mature one wasn't something Stiles thought he could handle.

“Did you?” Stiles thought he remembered hearing something like that, but it wasn't important enough to wrack his brain over. “Listen, Derek, I'll give you a second chance: one second chance. But I'm not gonna stop seeing Danny just because you might be jealous. I barely know either of you. And, someday, I'll probably have to choose, but today isn't that day. It's too damn early.”

Even though the words had been somewhat harsh, Stiles had made sure his tone was not. His voice was calm and even. He listened to the sound of Derek breathing on the other end of the line. The gears in Derek's head were spinning so fast Stiles would have sworn that he could hear them.

“Fine. I'll deal with it for now, Stiles, but this can't be a permanent arrangement. I'm not going to be here in six months being your 'other boyfriend' when people ask who I am. There is self-respect to be had.”

“Derek, if I didn't respect you, I wouldn't be telling you this,” Stiles assured the man on the phone as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Listen, I work tomorrow night, I'll stop into your place for breakfast and we'll talk. You can spare that time, right? You told me yourself you're not that busy during the day.”

“Actually, business has been picking up the last week. It seems word of mouth is finally working,” Derek laughed into the phone. “I'll make sure to take time to talk to you, though. Man, I'm terrible at this dating thing.”

“Trust me, you're not the only one. At all. Your sister's manager or art dealer or whatever? Dude, that's my ex. She's the main reason I walked out tonight without talking to you. Just in the interest of a full disclosure, I thought you'd want to know that.”

Derek laughed into Stiles' phone again, and Stiles found himself laughing along with him. “Stiles, dude, are you talking about Lydia? No offence, I don't know if you two ended on a good note or not, but I kind of hate that bitch.”

“Trust me, it's safe to hate Lydia in my presence.” Stiles tried to cut back on the laughter, even though it was much needed. He remembered why he had agreed to go out with Derek in the first place. It wasn't because he was hot, which was still a pretty big factor, but it was because he liked talking to Derek. Yes, true, the conversations weren't exactly the deepest things ever, but he enjoyed them. In this early a stage of dating, it was also enough.

But Stiles still had to talk to Danny about Derek and Lydia. That was likely to make the whole dating two guys at once thing a non-issue. Even if Danny could get over the Lydia mess, Stiles doubted that he would be as accommodating about Derek as Derek was about Danny. Sure, Stiles had no evidence to support his hypothesis, but it wouldn't stop him from being a wreck about it until it was out of the way.

“Hey, Derek, I'll see you in the morning. It's getting late.”

“Understandable,” Derek agreed. Stiles closed his eyes and pictured Derek nodding as he said it. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

“Goodnight, Derek.”

TW

Scott sat in the passenger seat and closed the door. He and Danny watched Allison slowly make her way to her old home. Even though he'd been in it hundreds of times over the years, he was fairly certain this was the first time he felt unwelcome. 

The engine to the car died, and Danny removed the key from the ignition. Allison had told them they could go on home, that she'd make her own way back to their building, but Danny had insisted on staying. It had impressed Scott. Especially when Danny used the ten bucks he got from Allison to pick up fast food on the way.

Danny leaned over his seat and retrieved the paper bag from the back seat, looking every bit as greedy as Scott felt.

“I never eat fast food. Ever,” Danny swore even though Scott knew he knew that Scott knew that it was a lie. “I'm just so hungry tonight.”

“Well, you got me the double, so hand it over,” Scott playfully ordered as he wiggled his fingers. He grinned widely as Danny thrust the wrapped burger and a cardboard sleeve of soggy fries into his hands.

Allison never let him bring fast food home, so the only time he got to eat it was when someone went on a food run at work. She had even groaned in protest when Danny pulled in the McDonald's parking lot, but she hadn't voiced her objections.

“So...” Danny started as he shifted in his seat to a position that was more comfortable and better suited to eating, “am I allowed to ask what's happening or is it personal?”

“She and her dad don't get along,” Scott answered through a mouthful of fries. He choked them down before continuing, pounding on his chest. “She won't mind me telling you. Allison and I were together for years, since high school. Then college came and with that came her figuring out she's a lesbian.”

“Oh? So her dad is a homophobe?” Danny nodded knowingly. “My family was cool with it, but when we would visit the relatives back in Hawaii, things were kind of 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' where I was concerned. I get it.”

“Her mom was, actually. Her dad was sorta fine with it at first. Then Allison's mom died and her dad took it out on her. I don't wanna go into specifics, but things got ugly. I thought she was done with him,” Scott nodded as he looked out the window and at the front door of the Argent household.

A sigh came from Danny's side of the car. “No offence, but you're straight, so you'll never get it. You're never done with your parents. I've talked to people, counsellors at gay and lesbian centres who told me that there are kids who are homeless after being beaten that still love their parents.

“I don't know Allison's story, but I've heard enough stories to know that at the end of the day, victims never really stop loving their abusers. Whether the abuse is physical or emotional doesn't really matter.”

Scott didn't know how to respond to that. He looked down at his burger for a few seconds. “You work at an LGBT centre? I've referred a few families to the local one here in Beacon Hills before. Usually when I work at the ER.”

“It's part of my parole agreement. Community service and all that,” Danny smiled before biting into his own burger.

Even though he didn't ask the question, Scott could tell Danny knew he was thinking it.

“White collar crime,” Danny confessed after swallowing his food. “You ever hear of Anonymous? Well, I was a member back in the day. Got caught sending a DDoS attack against some website. I did so regularly against so many I don't remember which one. Pled down to a misdemeanour, served a year. I'm still on parole for another couple of years. It's not something I'm proud of: I make a lousy martyr against governmental tyranny. But I won't lie about it.”

Holding up a fist, Scott waited a few seconds before Danny bumped it with his own. “No judgement here, my friend. We've all done stupid things.”

“Friend, huh?” Danny raised his eyebrows and bit into his burger.

A shrug was Scott's reply. They sat in silence for a few more minutes, eating and watching the Argent home. After finishing his food, Scott suddenly wished that he had gotten something to drink when Danny offered.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts looking for Elise. He smiled when he found it. Then he hit the edit option. Danny watched silently as Scott changed the name “Elise” to “Braeden”.

“It's been twenty minutes. Are you sure you want to keep waiting?” Scott asked Danny when he checked the time on his phone. “She did tell us that we could leave at any time.”

“I don't feel comfortable leaving her here alone. And I say that as if I know her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *reminds self that Scott is heterosexual in this fic* Y'all don't know how hard it was for me to write a platonic Danny/Scott scene. So, so hard.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super nervous about this chapter, because I've never experienced therapy and don't want to make a mockery of it. But, on the other hand, artistic license and rule of drama and all that. So I don't know. Just enjoy it!

Allison Argent sat in the waiting room. An hour early for her appointment, she'd spent the time trying to read a book on her tablet and her eyes kept crossing whenever she glanced at the screen. All she could think about was the horrid mistake she'd made trying to reason with her father.

He'd let her into the house, he'd let her speak, but he never said a word to her in turn. All her dad did was stare off into space. Beyond opening the door, he never acknowledged her presence.

The entire car ride back, Allison had kept up her strong front. She'd assured Scott and Danny that she was fine. Scott knew better, she was sure of that, but he didn't challenge her. He waited until they were home, and they'd said their good nights to Danny and walked into the apartment. The moment she heard Scott close the door behind her, and she knew that she was safe, she broke down.

Stiles was the one to hold her. She didn't remember how long she'd cried, shaking in his arms and grasping at his shirt. Scott tried to say something, she was sure, but she couldn't remember.

The next morning, her boys had the decency to not pry. She knew that when she was gone, Scott would tell Stiles what he knew. She would have done the same. But they were kind enough to not press the issue.

When the receptionist, or secretary or whatever his position was, when he told Allison that her counsellor was ready to see her, she powered down her tablet and sighed. The urge to cancel the meeting had been overwhelming. But she didn't. Confronting her issues head on had been a disaster. So maybe talking with someone who had actually studied how to deal with things would work where Allison's last minute epiphany had imploded.

“Allison Argent? Hello, I'm Ms. Morrell. I'm your psychologist,” a youthful looking black woman greeted with an outstretched hand. She was pretty, but her eyes interested Allison the most: there was much wisdom and knowledge behind them.

“Nice to meet you,” Allison returned while shaking the woman's hand. Her grip was light but firm. “I've never seen anyone before like this. So I'm kind of lost.”

“I like to spend the first session with all of my patients just getting to know them. Forms really don't tell you much about a person.” The woman closed the door and laid a hand on Allison's elbow, guiding her to one of two chairs by a large window. There was a couch on the other side of the room, and a desk with a computer neatly tucked away in the corner. She pulled out a tape recorder, and Allison nodded before she could ask the question. “It's best if you share what you think is your most prominent quality.”

Without even thinking about it, Allison sat and leaned forward, hands clasped together. “I'm a woman.”

“And why is that what came to mind?” Morrell asked in a non-confrontational voice as she sat in the chair opposite Allison, looking directly into her eyes.

“Because my life consists mostly of men. My roommates and my friends are all men. My job isn't the most feminine thing ever. I'm a janitor, in case you were wondering,” Allison smiled as the psychologist nodded and reciprocated with her own small smile. “I grew up moving around a lot. Family business stuff. So I never got to have long term friends. And they don't tell you this, but fashion is not universal. What is in style in one place is not in another. So a lot of the girls would make fun of me in school. I hung out with guys just because they didn't care.

“And that probably should have been a clue, now that I think about it.”

“A clue?” Ms. Morrell arched a non-judgemental eyebrow. Allison wondered how it was possible to have facial tics and a perfect poker face at the same time. “A clue to what?”

Allison let loose a breath that made her bangs dance. “This is the thing: I'm a lesbian. I'm also terrified of women. Not in the sense that I have an irrational fear of them, but I'm in my twenties and the only person I've slept with is my high school boyfriend. Did I mention he's also my roommate and best friend?”

“You seem to have a grasp on the problem, or what appears to be the problem. Why do women scare you? Do I scare you?”

Shaking her head in response, Allison crossed her legs and sat back. She laid her hands flat on her stomach. “I'm pretty sure the problem is that my mother and father disowned me when I came out of the closet in college. And then my mom died before we could reconcile. It's been kind shitty like that.

“Oops, sorry, I didn't mean to curse.”

“It's fine, Allison. I'm not easily offended. But you didn't answer my question. Why does having a bad relationship mean you're afraid?” Ms. Morrell asked calmly. She held out the recorder that Allison had forgotten about.

“Because my mother was the one to abandon me. At first, my dad was kind of supportive. He didn't tell me he supported me or that it was okay or anything, just that he loved me and would have to think about it. He had to think about it. I swear...

“But my mother told me to leave right after my dad said that. And he didn't contradict her. I was already living elsewhere, so I wasn't homeless or anything, but they didn't talk to me anymore after that. I was blocked on Facebook, my emails were never replied to, and any calls or texts I sent their way were ignored.”

“That sounds upsetting,” the woman said with a sympathetic nod.

Allison knew that she was using neutral language because that was what the smart types did. She had learned that when she was at college.

The room was hot. Allison hadn't noticed before, being too nervous to do so. She wondered if it was because she was sitting in direct sunlight or her nerves. Either way, it wasn't so much as to be uncomfortable, just distracting.

“So, yeah, my mom is the reason I can't deal with women. It's all simple and I want to know how to fix it.”

Ms. Morrell sat back, her cleavage bulging against her jacket. She was dressed rather modestly and conservative, but Allison couldn't help but notice. Allison tilted her head down and looked at the boots on her feet, letting her hair obscure her face so the psychologist couldn't see her blush.

“If your mother is to blame, then why did you tell me that you only had boys for friends in school? You didn't come out until you were in college. Are the two unrelated?”

“I see your psychiatric game. You don't want me to blame my mother because you think I have long running issues with women that predate being a lesbian. Why won't you let this be easy?” Allison whined, cringing at her own immaturity as she did it.

“Allison, I'm not trying to make this difficult, but I am trying to help you. If I'm going to do that, I should have all relevant information available. And that information may not always seem relevant at first,” the psychologist informed Allison warmly. She leaned forward and smiled. “Now, why don't you tell me about how things were for you in school?”

TW

Scott was sitting at the coffee house, drinking some new concoction he's never heard of but Derek assured him was becoming quite popular in places like Seattle and Portland. It was decent, but Scott doubted he'd ever buy it again.

When Braeden came in, she had her hair wrapped in a scarf and a brown jacket belted shut. She gave Derek a cursory nod at the counter, then passed him and headed straight for Scott's table.

He still found it odd to think of her as Braeden and not Elise.

“Hey there, Scrubs,” Braeden smiled as she loomed over him, her hand on the edge of the table. Her voice was low, and he had to lean up to hear her as her voice lingered on the edge of a whisper. “So, what are you buying me?”

With a nod, Scott sat his cup on the table and stood, beckoning for Braeden to follow him as he approached the counter. She raised and eyebrow and followed with arms crossed.

“Derek, hey, can I get a caramel mocchiato for my friend here? And a couple of muffins. A strawberry for me. What do you want?” he asked Braeden.

She squatted in front of the display case and mulled over her options. Scott told Derek that it may be a couple minutes, before squatting down next to Braeden. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before looking back at the muffins.

“Have you ever had these ones with the cream cheese inside?” She asked Scott as she put a hand on his knee.

He nodded. “They're good. Pretty much everything here is good. Derek bakes it all himself.”

“I'll take one of the cream cheese ones,” Braeden informed Derek as she popped up and looked at his back. “Thank you.”

Turning around to face his customers, Derek gave them a gracious smile. “Thank you, Braeden.” He handed her her coffee and then retrieved the muffins as Scott pulled out his wallet.

“I've got this, Scrubs,” Braeden said forcefully as she used her free hand to push Scott's away. She then reached into one of the pockets on her jacket and pulled out a wallet of her own. “How much?”

As Braeden paid Derek, Scott hastily shoved his own wallet back into his pocket and picked up his muffin. If his girlfriend wanted to pay for him, he was more than happy to let her.

By the time all money had been exchanged, Scott had eaten half his muffin and Braeden was just kind of looking at him.

“What?” he asked as she rolled her eyes and grabbed her own muffin. She led him back to the table.

She sat down across from Scott as he finished his muffin. “You're a nurse, right?"

A nod was his answer as he chewed the last of his muffin. Then he sat down and resumed drinking his coffee.

“Good. The look suits you,” she winked before setting her shoulders and looking at Derek behind her. When she looked back at Scott, her face was unreadable. “So, yeah, it figures that you really don't get the six degrees thing in this town. It's more like two.

“So I figure I should probably let you know that I'm not really this mysterious, devil may care hipster girl. I'm just your average working thirty hours a week for minimum wage and writing a blog hipster girl. And you were one of my blog entries,” Braeden confessed calmly, her voice noticeably restrained.

“I was a blog post?” Scott didn't feel angry. If anything, he was curious. “But I'm not that interesting.”

“Oh, I know, but all that manic pixie dream girl stuff? It was mostly an act. I wanted to see what it was like to live as that kind of person for a night. It was... an experience. But it's not me, and I like you enough that I wanted you to know.”

Scott laughed. Braeden looked at him with her controlled face as he doubled over. When he started wiping his eyes, she chuckled, too.

“Oh, man, no offence, but that is hysterical. So, is this a let me down brunch thing or what”

“It's a 'letting go of Elise and learning who Braeden is' thing, actually,” she told Scott with a grin. “I mean, our first official date was kind of nonexistent. So, I figured we could try again, without the pretence.”

“It's nice to meet you, Braeden. My name is Scott,” he said as he held out his hand.

She grabbed it and brought it to her lips, kissing his knuckles. “The pleasure is all mine, My Lady.”

They both snorted.

TW

Danny's couch was comfortable. He still hadn't unpacked everything, as half-empty boxes littered the floor, but Stiles wasn't paying attention to that. His focus was on the man pushing against him, pressing their mouths together.

“I win!” Danny suddenly shouted as he broke away from Stiles and pumped one fist in the air while the other hand waved his PlayStation controller around victoriously.

Stiles pointed his finger at Danny as his avatar on Danny's TV lay on the ground unconscious. “Cheater! I demand a rematch.”

“It's not my fault you can't concentrate,” Danny replied with a wink as he laid his controller down. “Tell you what, you can set up the next match. Want something to drink? I have beer and ginger ginger ale. There's water if you don't mind it from the tap.”

“I'll take a ginger ale,” Stiles told Danny as he began scrolling through locations. He was still flabbergasted that his Litchi Faye-Ling had been beaten by Bang Shishigami. “Not big on the drinking.”

“Alcoholic or just not a fan?” Danny's voice held no amusement, just interest as the sound of the fridge opening greeted Stiles' ears. Stiles turned and watched Danny lean into the fridge for a few seconds, then pop back out with one can of ginger ale in each hand.

“Not an alcoholic,” Stiles assured Danny as he held his hand out to take the can. The cold metal made his palm tingle as Danny handed him the can. “My mom was killed by a drunk driver when I was in junior high, and it kinda soured me on the whole getting plastered thing. But don't stay sober on my account. I won't judge.”

“It's fine,” Danny told Stiles as he sat beside him and set his unopened can on the floor. “It's not my beer, really, Jackson left it after helping me move in.”

“Oh...” Stiles set his own can down and dropped his controller on the arm of the sofa.

Danny shifted nervously, as though he didn't know what to say. Even though he knew where the conversation was going, Stiles was wanting to avoid it. Things with Danny were fun.

“Scott told me about you and Lydia, and Lydia and Jackson. I had no idea, I swear. When you're in prison, the first rule is that you never ask why somebody is there. So I just believed Jackson when he told me that it was over beating some dude up in a fight,” Danny explained nervously, his words carefully chosen.

“You were in prison?” Stiles was shocked. Danny seemed like a nice guy. Jackson was an asshole who needed to be locked up, but Danny didn't have that vibe at all.

“I'm not proud of it.” Danny's eyes lowered to the floor as he took a deep, shuddering breath. “Stiles, I was arrested for hacking a government website. I'm not a terrorist or anything, I swear. Do you know what Anonymous is?”

“The internet activist group?”

“They prefer to be called 'hacktivists', but yeah. I thought I was better than I really was, and I got caught. It was dumb, and I don't even remember why I did it,” Danny confessed as he looked back into Stiles' eyes. “Listen, I swear that's the truth.”

Stiles blinked.

They sat silent for about five minutes. The only sound was the generic instrumental rock music blaring from the TV speakers, as though the video game were protesting being ignored.

Stiles acted first. He didn't say anything, just put a hand on Danny's knee and leaned forward to kiss him. It was pleasant, but Stiles could feel himself holding back. He was sure Danny could feel it. And it wasn't because of something as simple as it being a new relationship.

So, Stiles broke the kiss and leaned back against the arm of the sofa. The PlayStation controller clattered on the floor, but both men ignored it.

“You know I'm seeing someone else, right? That guy from that gallery or whatever it was. Yeah. We aren't exclusive or anything, so I'm not gonna apologize. I just thought you should know,” Stiles informed Danny with an air that he hoped came off as casual.

“I kinda figured, and I don't really care,” Danny said agreeably. “Like you said, we're in the beginning stages of dating, and I'm enjoying it, but I really didn't expect us to be having this much baggage this soon. You seeing some other guy is no big deal compared to our mutual issues.”

“Jackson,” Stiles sighed.

“Yeah. I looked up his charges, Stiles. And I read the arrest report. I had no idea you could get that stuff so easily. But he really did mess Lydia up bad. He's also violating a restraining order. It's, like, shit, y'know? He's been my best friend since I got out. He got out before I did, man, and he didn't forget me. Do I just turn my back on him? I do, don't I? Yeah, I do.” Danny ceased his rambling when Stiles reached out and cupped his cheek with one hand. Stiles' thumb caressed the skin just below Danny's eye.

“Danny, I can't be the one to tell you what to do. Oh, I want to tell you, but I don't want to be the guy who ruined your friendship.”

“I should talk with him. See what he has to say. I should talk to Lydia, too. I haven't talked to either one since that night.”

“But you talked to Scott,” Stiles said, reminding Danny as much as he did himself. He let his hand drift away from Danny's face and settle at his side. “He didn't tell me any of this.”

“I asked him not to tell you. These are things you needed to hear from me. It just wasn't supposed to be this soon, I guess,” Danny admitted nervously as he simultaneously ran his hands through his hair. “For one, we were supposed to have had more than one date. This whole thing is very weird.”

“Remember when we were just gonna hang out and play video games?” Stiles laughed darkly before letting out a sigh. “I suppose there is one more thing I should tell you.”

“Are you an ex-con, too?” Danny joked, eliciting a brief smile from Stiles. The one Danny shot back made what Stiles was about to say even harder to force out.

“I've never been arrested, thankfully, but when Lydia and I split, I was very much the asshole. I literally threw her onto the street with no notice, and we'd lived together for a few months. And I refused to talk to her. So she hates me and everyone in my life.

“And there you have it: all of my dirty laundry. Yours doesn't bother me, but I won't blame you if you asked me to leave. Like we've both mentioned repeatedly, this is barely a thing. We're still new, and could easily just be neighbours and nothing more,” Stiles pointed out forlornly.

And Danny ended the conversation much in the same manner it had begun. One hand was on the back of the sofa, the other on Stiles' thigh as they kissed.

TW

“Therapy sucks.”

Allison threw her scarf in one direction and her jacket in the other before kicking her shoes off and leaving them by the door. Before he could even think to object, Allison shot Stiles down with one look.

“That's what I thought,” she said with narrowed eyes as she slammed the door behind her and stomped over to the bed. She fell onto it face first, and Stiles just silently watched her from his seat at the small dining table. She couldn't see what he was doing on the laptop, but he closed it and cautiously approached her.

“Rough first session?” he inquired as he sat on the bed next to her, rubbing the small of her back with his hand.

“These shrinks always want to dig through traumatic history to look for underlying causes instead of going for the obvious. Blah.” Allison stuck her tongue out before burying her face in her pillow and screaming. When she finished, she sat up, knocking his hand away. “Where is Scott? He's usually the one doing this stuff while you hide in a corner.”

She saw a bit of a smile play at Stiles' lips, and mentally guessed the answer before he verbalized it. “He's with that girl. Braeden?”

“You know, I still don't know if I approve of her, even if she does finally have a name.” Allison reached down and plucked her socks off her feet and threw them at the closed door.

“I met her at the photo thing the other night. It was only for a few seconds, but I liked her,” Stiles shrugged as he began chewing on the cord of his hoodie. “She was pretty, too.”

“How pretty?” Allison tilted her head and raised an interested eyebrow.

“Girl, you do not even want to go there. You need to worry about your own pussy and not the one Scott is eating,” Stiles said with an affected lisp and a finger waggle. In response, Allison smacked him in the face with a pillow and laughed.

“You are such a dick.”

“And you love it,” Stiles snorted in turn. He bumped his shoulder into Allison's. “I hung out with Danny today. He's friends with Jackson.”

“Jackson, as in that piece of shit who used to beat Lydia?” Allison growled. She hated Jackson, and she hadn't even exchanged more than three words with the man.

“They were friends in prison.”

Allison felt her jaw fall open as Stiles explained everything to her. She didn't know how to feel about having an ex-con living down the hall. Even though she was sure it wasn't necessary, Allison made a note to start carrying pepper spray any time she wasn't in the apartment. Danny had been nice to her, yes, but she knew that a person who went to prison came out different. It had happened to her Aunt Kate.

“How do you meet these people? Seriously. Is everyone you date a freak?” she prodded with a poke to Stiles' ribcage.

“At least I can get a date without the help of a shrink,” he shot back before sticking his tongue out. Her response was once again a pillow to the face.

With a loud groan, Allison collapsed back onto the bed. Stiles lay on his side, propping his head up with his arm.

“Why is Scott hanging out with an allegedly gorgeous chick, and you have two guys interested in you, and I freaked out because that hot chick from that group tried to kiss me?” she asked Stiles. It was a rhetorical question, but she didn't think he would know that.

She didn't particularly care, either.

“I didn't say she was gorgeous, I said she was pretty,” Stiles corrected with a chuckle. “And this juggling two guys thing is fairly complicated and I'm a whole one date into both relationships. You don't want my life. You focus on you, Allison. If you think this shrink will help you, let her help you.”

“Thanks for that,” she replied sarcastically. “I don't want to talk about me after all. The shrink says that, at least initially, I should keep what happens in my sessions between the two of us. Outside influences ruining any progress or whatever. Typical shrink stuff.”

“I know what you mean. When I saw that shrink all through high school after my mom died, he didn't want me talking to my dad about what happened until the monthly family session. Are you doing a family session? Because I would happily go with you.”

“Thanks.” Allison meant it, and she rolled over and kissed Stiles on the forehead. “Now, are you going to tell me which of your hunks you like better, and if I'm ever going to get properly introduced to Danny? Because, yeah, he may have given me a lift to my house, but we haven't really had a conversation.”

“And you've had one with Derek?” Stiles raised both of his eyebrows curiously.

Allison winked before answering. “Well, yeah. Like I said, I have to approve of your life choices, since you seem to make horrible ones when left to your own devices.”


	9. Chapter 9

The first clue that something was wrong was when Stiles and Scott showed up at Derek's coffee house for brunch and found that it was closed. Not knowing what was wrong, Stiles sent Derek a text asking if he was okay while he and Scott walked back to their apartment.

The second clue was waiting an hour and receiving no reply. They had cereal and waited for the percolator. Stiles was sure it was nothing. He would find out why the shop was closed later that night when he and Derek had their date.

When Braeden called Scott, and his best friend refused to look at him during the entire conversation, Stiles had a feeling his date was about to be cancelled.

“Dude, what's wrong?” Stiles demanded impatiently the moment Scott ended the call. He hastily apologized, but waited for the answer nonetheless.

“Stiles, Derek is dead. He got mugged this morning while taking the deposit to the bank. Tried to fight off the guy and was stabbed...” Scott couldn't finish the sentence. Even though Stiles was the one Derek had flirted with and had sort of dated, Scott was the one that had known him the longest. Well, as well as you could know the person that served you breakfast and coffee.

Stiles didn't know how he felt. “How did your girlfriend know?”

Blinking heavily, Scott reminded Stiles how, coincidentally, Braeden's best friend was also Derek's sister. “I guess Braeden was with her when she found out.”

“When is the funeral?” Stiles asked as he sorted through the memories in his head. But there weren't many of them, and they were all so insignificant. They hadn't even shared a kiss. Was he supposed to mourn someone he barely knew? Maybe if he learned the etiquette for the situation, he would know how he felt about it.

He was certainly sad Derek was dead, but he didn't feel like crying. As Scott explained that it was too early to plan a funeral, that Derek's body was likely going to be held for a few weeks as evidence, Stiles found himself not really listening.

Stiles pinched himself, but it barely hurt. He was detached, experiencing it through a fog of confusion. Except he wasn't confused. He knew that he barely knew Derek.

“How long do you think it took him to die? Was it a prolonged death?” Stiles interrupted Scott with his outburst. His friend just sort of stared at him for a few seconds with his mouth open, the only sound being the percolator at work.

“That's a very morbid question, Dude,” Scott said in a notable non-answer.

“So, yes, it was long and he suffered. That sucks,” Stiles noted aloud as he walked to the fridge and retrieved his carton of almond milk. “Am I supposed to go to the funeral? I mean, we had one date and we both kind of walked out on it. That's not enough of a relationship for anyone to know who I am.”

“We have some time for you to decide if you're going to go to the funeral, if they have one at all. Just don't get so excited,” Scott warned behind a set of cool eyes. Looking into his best friend's eyes seemed to snap Stiles out of the shock he had been unwittingly settling into.

Stiles poured himself a glass and then put his almond milk back in the fridge. He debated internally if he should melodramatically throw it against the wall and scream in a fit of rage, but instead opted to sit down.

“Do I tell Danny about this?” Stiles wondered as he stared at his glass. He steepled his hands and rested his chin on them.

For his part, Scott shrugged. “I don't know, Stiles. This whole thing is new to us both. If I were Danny, I would probably want to know, but I'm not.

“This whole conversation is kind of uncomfortable and gross, though. Isn't it?”

“It really is,” Stiles agreed. “A man died, and we're talking about obligations and dating and such. Are we supposed to feel bad about it? You've known Derek longer than I have. I've only known him maybe two weeks.”

“Yeah, and I've known him about six weeks. I don't even know the name of the place he worked. I never looked at my receipts. Heck, I told him not to print them and he listened. He was a nice guy.”

“He was,” Stiles concurred with a nod of his head.

Scott chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his head. “I guess you're choosing Danny, then. Which is cool, I like Danny: prison record and all.”

“I guess so. Though, winning via the other guy getting stabbed to death is kind of a crap victory. And I'm a crap prize. And you're a crap person for joking about that.” Stiles wasn't judging Scott. Neither meant to be malicious, and they certainly wouldn't have been cracking jokes in front of Derek's family, but it didn't change the fact that they had been joking about a man's murder.

Unable to say anything, Scott looked away from Stiles and stood. He walked to his scarf collection and began sorting through them to see which he would wear to work.

“Why would he fight?” Stiles asked Scott, a tiny tremor appearing in his voice. Confused, he rubbed his throat while waiting for his friend to answer.

“I don't know, Stiles. Every time the news or whatever talks about being mugged, they say not to fight back. Everyone knows that you just let them have what they want. I guess Derek thought that the money he had was worth dying over.”

Stiles found his hands shaking and forced them to stop. “It wasn't.”

“I know,” Scott agreed as he put the scarves down and walked back to the table. He didn't sit down. Rather, he stopped by Stiles' chair and held a hand out. “Come here.”

The chair had fallen over from the clumsiness with which Stiles stood. He almost fell over himself, but Scott caught him. And Scott pulled his best friend into a hug, even as Stiles began crying over a man he had met maybe two weeks prior.

TW

Scott had called off from work, told them a friend died and that he would be useless. It wasn't untrue. Or so he told himself. As much as he wanted to stay and comfort Stiles, he had told Braeden that he would be over. Stiles had pretty much shoved him out the door the moment Scott mentioned it.

His fingers rapped against Danny's door roughly. When the tall, dark man opened it he was clearly still half-asleep, the annoyed look on his face as much of a clue as the Wonder Woman pyjama bottoms and lack of a shirt. He rubbed his face with his hand before sighing and leaning against the door frame.

“What's up, Scott? I just woke up, so sorry about looking a mess.”

“Uh huh,” Scott said with a nod of his head and simultaneous shrug. “Listen, if I turn out to be the creepy neighbour, I'll deal with it, but I need a favour.”

“Depends on what it is,” Danny yawned as he stretched. Even though he was straight, Scott found himself staring at Danny's abs appreciatively.

After blinking and looking back up to Danny's face, Scott met his eyes. “Can you go to my place and take care of Stiles for me? Allison is working and I have a thing. Do you know who Derek is?”

Danny's eye roll confirmed that he did well before the words. “He's that other guy Stiles is seeing, right? Let me guess, they broke up or something?”

“Derek died this morning in a mugging,” Scott corrected in a cold voice. “I know, it's weird, but can you do this for me? You can consider me in your debt if you do.”

“Yeah, sure, just let me get dressed,” Danny said, his voice full of concern. “Is Stiles a wreck? Were they close?”

“Stiles isn't sure what he is, and they weren't particularly close or anything. I would just feel more comfortable if he weren't alone,” Scott reached through the doorway and grabbed Danny's forearm, “and I think you're a decent guy, Danny, but if I find out you hurt Stiles over this, I will kill you.”

Even though he knew he would never follow up on the threat, Scott also knew that Danny didn't. He released Danny and nodded briskly at him before walking outside to wait on his cab.

Scott had to look at his phone to give the driver the directions. He was already running late, so taking the bus was out of the question.

How the hell he and Braeden had become so close so fast confused him, but he ran with it. Stiles was playing the safe, distant dating game, but Scott apparently wasn't. There was no logical reason for Braeden to give him her address and ask him over. He knew it, but he didn't care.

When the cab pulled up to the place Braeden gave Scott, he handed the cabbie fifteen dollars and told him to keep the change. Then he double checked his phone to see if he had gotten the right place: his recent luck with cabs hadn't been the greatest.

The building wasn't anything fancy, just a small house on the border between suburbia and Beacon Hills proper. It reminded Scott of his Mom's house.

Fingers rasped against the wood of the front door, and Scott rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. He had no idea what to say. He didn't know the first thing about comforting someone over a death. He'd been terrible at it when Allison's mom died, and they weren't even involved anymore at that time.

“Hey.” Braeden opened the door and offered a small smile to Scott. Her eyes were puffy and her hair was pulled back into a simple puff. No makeup adorned her face. She was wearing sweatpants and a white undershirt.

“Hi,” Scott answered as he stepped into the doorway and pulled her into a hug. He tried to keep it light and loose, but she clung to him as though she were drowning. After a minute of just holding him, she released him from her grip and stepped back, holding a hand out and indicating he should walk inside.

“I'm glad you came, Scott.”

“Scott?” he returned her smile with one of his own before stepping into her abode. It was cold inside, and he could hear the air conditioner running. It was likely going at full blast. Despite finding it odd, since it was barely warm out by California standards, he didn't mention it.

“Today's not the day,” Braeden told him as she took him by the hand and led him into what he assumed was a living room. The fact that there was no place to sit in the room, aside from one metal folding chair that was occupied by a stern-looking white woman, made him blink. Cora was on the floor by a small table, a cup of tea in hand. She glared at Scott but said nothing.

“You must be Braeden's boyfriend,” the woman said in a curt but polite voice. “My name is Talia Hale.”

“Scott McCall,” he replied as he held a hand out to her. She shook it with a firm grip. “You're Derek and Cora's mother?”

“Yes,” she nodded simply before quickly glancing at her daughter and back to Scott. “Braeden told you the news?”

“It's not news, Mother. Derek was murdered,” Cora growled, but one look from Talia quieted her.

Speaking up while he had the chance, Scott offered his sympathies. “I did hear about Derek. I didn't know him long, but he seemed like a great guy. I'm sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Talia smiled sadly. Unlike Braeden and Cora, the woman's skin was completely smooth and he wondered if she had even cried yet. She seemed to control the entire room with little to no effort. “May I ask how you knew my son?”

“I was a regular at his coffee house,” Scott admitted sheepishly.

“Oh?” Talia looked at Braeden lovingly, like Scott's own mother did with him. Well, when she wasn't yelling at him or dropping hints about grandchildren. “It is still nice to meet you. You must know my brother.”

She called Peter's name, and he appeared in the doorway, beer in hand.

“What?” he yelled wetly. Scott hadn't seen much of Peter when he was at the coffee shop, but he did recognize the man. Peter, however, clearly had no idea who Scott was. “Well, hello there.”

“Back off, Peter,” Braeden warned protectively, grabbing Scott's arm and pulling him to her side. “This one is straight, and more importantly he's mine. Also, you nephew just died.”

“Whatever,” Peter said dismissively as he blew a kiss to Scott and winked before walking back out of the room.

“Sorry, my uncle is a horny drunk,” Cora offered with a nonchalant shrug.

“Your uncle is gay?” Scott was suddenly wondering when he became the only heterosexual male in Beacon Hills.

The one to answer was Talia. “My brother... he refuses labels.”

A tug at Scott's arm distracted him from thoughts of Peter Hale. It was Braeden leading him to the table where Cora was sitting. “Come, sit down, would you like something to drink?”

“Would you like to leave?” Cora sighed with annoyed resignation.

Scott down on his knees, then sat back on his feet. He put his arms on the table and knelt forward. “I'd love a glass of water. Thank you.”

“I don't even know why she asked you over. It's not like you really knew Derek. Not like the rest of us,” Cora accused the moment Braeden left the room.

“Cora, behave,” her mother ordered.

Hiding his hands in his lap, Scott tried to disappear under Cora's hateful gaze but it didn't work. He wracked his brain, but he had no idea why she hated him so much. The few times she'd served him at the coffee shop everything had been fine.

“What was Derek like outside of work?” Scott wondered aloud in an attempt to diffuse the building tension.

“He was a lovely young man, very caring and thoughtful,” Talia beamed with a mournful pride. “It is so hard to refer to him in the past tense.”

“Derek also killed his girlfriend in high school,” Cora added as she stared directly into Scott's eyes.

“CORA!” Braeden yelled as she appeared in the doorway, glass of water in hand.

Scott's eyes shot between the three women, his mouth clamped shut. Braeden brought him his water, the sounds of her shoes shuffling on the carpet and the air conditioning the only sounds being made.

“Thank you,” he said dryly as he accepted the water and downed it all at once.

“My son did not really kill his girlfriend, Mr. McCall,” Talia assured Scott. He didn't really say anything, he just blinked at her.

“Cora is very... brash about things,” Braeden agreed as she sat next to him and shot her friend a dirty look. Scott assumed they were probably roommates as well.

“Don't lie to the boy.” Cora stood up and didn't shrink back from her mother's withering gaze. “I loved my brother, but let's not pretend he was a saint.”

She stormed out of the house, the front door slammed shut so hard Scott thought he felt the house shake.

“You don't have to tell me anything,” Scott insisted quickly, feeling incredibly insecure. “I'm sorry I, err, uh, interrupted things.”

“Nonsense,” Talia said graciously. “My daughter tends to be... rough with everyone. But thank you for not making me relive a dark time in my family's history. We have been through enough today, I believe. If you will pardon me, I have phone calls to make.”

After waiting for the room to clear out, Scott looked at Braeden with what he hoped was a neutral face. “That was intense.”

“If only it were unusual,” Braeden sighed. “The Hales tend to be like that all the time. Cora especially, sorry about that. But I can assure you that Derek never killed anybody.”

“Okay,” Scott nodded nervously. He wasn't scared, just on edge.

“It's not my place to say what happened, but I really do want you to believe that. Cora likes to try to shock anyone who tries to come into the family, so to speak. She even does it with me sometimes, and I've been her best friend for years,” Braeden laughed heartily. “Honestly, it's one of the things I love about her. When it isn't embarrassing me, like it did just now.”

Without even thinking, Scott grabbed and held her hand. “Braeden, I'm here to comfort you. Stop worrying about me. I'm fine.”

“Actually, you're not,” she confessed, turning to Scott and circling her free arm around his neck, hand resting on his shoulder. “I offered to ask, since none of the Hales know you...”

“Ask what?” Scott used his free hand to scratch at his thigh.

“Derek really didn't have a lot of friends. None of the Hales do. And the family is fairly woman-heavy... When the funeral does happen, would you please be a pallbearer? I won't be mad if you say no, they just need one more guy to get a full six.”

“Uh, sure,” Scott shrugged absentmindedly. “I mean, I barely knew Derek, when it comes down to it, but I'd be happy to be a pallbearer. Honoured, even.”

“Thank you,” Braeden said as she pulled Scott in for a kiss.

TW

“Hello, Lydia,” Allison said with a reserved calm as she sat down next to the woman and tried her best not to look at her. “How did you get my number?”

“You never changed it,” Lydia replied thickly and slowly.

Allison noted the morphine drip before continuing. “Why did you call me?”

“Who am I supposed to call? Scott or Stiles? That bitch Braeden? To hell with them. I didn't need them judging me, thinking I deserved this for the other night.”

“Nobody would ever think that you deserved this, Lydia,” Allison told the woman as she finally looked at her face. Lydia's red hair was missing in spots, where it had likely been ripped out. One eye had a large, black bruise circling it and the other was swollen shut. And her lips looked like raw hamburger. “Nobody would ever deserve this.”

“The fucker told me it would be different, and I believed him,” Lydia growled angrily, tears forming in her eyes. She tugged lightly at the IV on her hand to get Allison's attention. “I can still feel the pain, you know. I had the option of being so drugged out of my mind I'd be a zombie, but I want to feel it. I want the reminder of why I left the first time.”

“You still haven't told me why I'm here,” Allison awkwardly replied. She didn't want to seem heartless, but there was literally nothing she could do to help Lydia.

“Jackson is still on the run. The police suggested that I stay somewhere safe, but people tend to not like me.”

“I'm shocked,” Allison fake gasped. Then she thought about it and felt like a bitch, but didn't apologize. “You know you can't move back in with us. We got rid of the sofa bed.”

“I would choose nuclear annihilation before moving back into that hovel, Allison,” Lydia said with a pained grimace. Her fingers clasped the bed railing so hard her knuckles were white. But she didn't cry out in pain. “I'm asking you to move in with me. Temporary. Just until they catch Jackson's bitch ass.”

Allison sat back in the chair and crossed her arms, her mouth hanging open in shock. Words had failed her.

“Um, Allison?” Lydia licked her lips, then winced. She forced herself into sitting in a new position, face wracked with sweat and pain.

“We'll do a one week trial. I'm gonna tell Scott and Stiles that I'm going to some work thing. Janitor convention or whatever.”

“Janitor convention?” Lydia scoffed. “They may be idiots, but they aren't that stupid. But thank you. I didn't have anyone else, and you were one of the few people I could once call a friend.”

“Lydia...” Allison leaned forward, crossing her legs and planting her hands on the top one. “I'm sorry about how things went down with you and Stiles. He told us about it the other night. He was an asshole, and so was I for freezing you out and not giving you a chance to tell your side of the story.”

“Bygones,” Lydia sighed as she slowly pushed her hair out of her face. “Can I just ask that you not play your weird hipster music all the time? It won't hurt you to listen to pop music like a normal person.”

“But it burns, Lydia. Lady Gaga alone gives me third degree burns, and she can actually sing!” Allison laughed. “Do you still drink instant coffee? Because if you do, I'm gonna need to start grinding my own beans again...”

“You would make taking care of an invalid all about yourself,” Lydia laughed before doubling over in pain. Allison began to rise, but was waved down. “And thanks for not telling Scott and Stiles about this. If we could keep it between us?”

“At the risk of sounding like a complete and total cunt, Lydia, I'm not keeping this a secret for you. Call me when you're released,” Allison said coolly as she stood up and walked out of the room. She managed to wait until she was in the elevator, thankfully alone, to scream.

She stopped when the elevator dinged. A man who looked to be a doctor and two women in smart business attire glanced at her nervously as they stepped onto the elevator. Allison smiled at them and stepped to the back of the elevator. They kept shooting glances at her until the elevator reached the ground floor, in which all four occupants exited, the three headed deeper into the hospital as Allison walked towards the exit.

Pulling her phone out the moment she stepped through the sliding doors and into the sunshine, Allison called up Stiles.

“Howdy,” Stiles said lifelessly. Allison thought it was odd, but didn't dwell on it.

“Hey, Stiles, do you have Danny's number? I kinda need a favour.”

“What kind of favour?”

“The kind that involves me not telling you,” she snapped, hearing him groan. She imagined him holding the phone away from his ear.

“I can do you one better, I suppose. Danny is with me right now. Hang on,” Stiles told Allison. She heard him say something to Danny, but couldn't make out what.”

“Hi, Allison, right?”

“Right. Hey, Danny, are you busy tomorrow afternoon?”

TW

Stiles was resting his head on Danny's chest when Allison threw open the door and breezed into the apartment.

“How are my boys?” she asked with a wink, but Stiles wasn't sure who she was winking at. Also, he was confused by her general demeanour.

“Are you stoned right now?” he asked, reluctantly climbing off of Danny and grabbing Allison's arm. As he looked into her eyes, he also felt her forehead to see if she was running a fever.

“You know they do drug testing at work, Stiles. And I'm not stupid enough to toke without a prescription. Though, I definitely need one with all the stress you and Scott put me through.

“Hey Danny,” Allison greeted the man with a wave. “Glad to see you're still here.”

“Oh, right,” Stiles released Allison and stepped back, “Danny said you wanted to tell me something? About why you needed this mysterious favour?”

“Yeah, that...” Allison looked at Danny for a few seconds, then back to Stiles. Stiles found it suspicious. “Danny is helping me move out.”

“WHAT?!” Stiles yelled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Danny flinch, but Allison didn't react to the outburst. She seemed relieved, though.

“Not permanently. I'll still be paying rent and stopping by, but my shrink thinks I should try to have more time to myself and less time with you and Scott. So a co-worker is letting me stay with her for a few weeks. It's just a brief break, I promise, and we can still do things like text or go out for coffee,” Allison explained far too quickly, as though she had rehearsed what she was saying.

Stiles didn't believe a word Allison was saying, but if she wanted independence, who was he to stop her?

“About the coffee thing...” Stiles made a point of not looking at Danny. “Allison, Derek died.”

“What?” Allison looked at Stiles as though she hadn't heard him. “When did he die?How?”

“This morning. Mugging that went wrong,” Stiles sighed as he walked back to the bed and sat next to Danny. “That's kind of all I know. Scott should be able to tell us more when he gets home.”

“Why would Scott know?” Allison grabbed a chair from the dining table and dragged it over to the bed. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. Mostly,” Stiles told her as he looked over to Danny, who looked very uncomfortable. He wanted to tell the man that he could leave, but he really wanted him to stay, so he said nothing to him. “Listen, Scott's new girl is, shockingly, a friend of Derek's sister or something. I thought we told you.”

“If you did, I don't remember. It just sucks,” Allison shrugged casually. Then she looked at Danny, before turning her attention back to Stiles. “I just remembered I have something to do.”

“No you don't,” Stiles objected with a grim chuckle. Allison really wasn't as good at lying as she thought. “But go.”

Allison kissed Stiles on the cheek, offered another profession of thanks to Danny, and then bolted from the apartment. He'd grill her later and find out why she was being weird. He just didn't want to have a domestic squabble in front of Danny.

Turning his attention back to his visitor, Stiles offered a halfhearted smile. “You know, you're being super cool about this. Most guys, and sure as hell no women, are ever this comfortable.”

“Honestly? I'm not comfortable, but I have a feeling that everything with you is awkward and weird, so I'm trying to adapt,” Danny grinned.

Stiles leaned in and kissed him, eyes closed and hands on Danny's thigh. He opened his eyes and Danny looked back at him.

“I want to do something fun. What do you find fun?” Stiles asked Danny as he pressed their foreheads together and sighed. “And don't say video games. I want to leave this building. Tonight.”

“Well, we could always go wander around Wal-Mart and make fun of the fat people in skinny jeans,” Danny suggested, making Stiles snort.

“Do you need to get your coat?” Stiles asked as he bounded for his shoes by the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, I doubt anyone saw this coming. Please, feel free to let me know how you felt about this chapter. I personally couldn't connect to Derek's death until I viewed it through Scott's perspective and everything clicked. I almost deleted the entire thing during the first first scene when it was Stiles' POV. Now I'm glad I didn't.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Ten chapters. I didn't expect that to be the accomplishment that it is, but I want to thank everyone for sticking with me through the total overhaul this fic received. While I'd wanted it to be a short romantic comedy piece initially, I love the meandering character study it has become. I appreciate all of you reading and supporting this. :-)
> 
> P.S. For some reason, I tried and couldn't find myself able to be happy with the Scott POVs this chapter, despite endless rewrites, but I think the Stiles one may be his strongest so far.

Scott and Danny each carried a large box of Allison's clothes to Danny's car as she ran around the apartment double checking that she had taken everything she thought she would need. She wasn't telling either of her roommates where she would be staying, and had even managed to withstand Stiles' attempt at an interrogation.

So, they all silently agreed to buy her story about her therapist insisting she spend time away from the men in her life. Scott was shocked by how much he didn't mind. He would miss her, of course, but she had agreed to leave the laptop and was just taking her tablet, so things were far more bearable than he had expected. It didn't hurt that the three of them hadn't really been spending much time together lately. The extra legroom in the bed would definitely be welcome.

Danny slammed the trunk shut, and called for Allison to hurry. She hugged Stiles in the doorway of the apartment building. When she came to Scott, she pulled him into an even tighter embrace that she had Stiles,

“You know I'll be back, right? And that I love you guys?” she asked Scott before releasing him and patting her pockets, probably to make sure she had her phone. “And you can always chat with me on Twitter.”

“I know, Allison. We both know. Just let Stiles pout. He'll be over it.” Scott smiled as he pulled open the passenger side door on Danny's car. He looked into the car, where Danny was sitting and waiting. “Dude, just promise me you're taking her somewhere that isn't a crack house.”

Allison pushed Scott away from the car door with a laugh. “Scott, stop it. Go try on the bras I'm leaving or something.”

She stuck out her tongue, then climbed into the car. Stiles walked over and leaned against Scott, waving to Allison as Danny and she drove off.

“He totally knows something, and he's not telling me,” Stiles told Scott as he draped an arm around his best friend's shoulder. “I'm his boyfriend, or something approaching that word. He should be telling me these things.”

“Stiles, you guys met two weeks ago, and you play video games and make out. I like Danny, but it's not that deep a relationship,” Scott pointed out as he actively ignored that he met Braeden the same night Stiles met his current paramour.

With a shake of his head, Stiles started walking back to their apartment, half-dragging Scott with him. “Dude, you are such a downer.”

“I prefer to be called a realist,” Scott replied with a smirk.

When they entered the apartment, Stiles kicked the door shut and threw himself on the bed, clearly revelling in the free space that its third occupant had left behind.

“You know, even with Allison not living here right now, you still need to bring Nameless Girl by so I can meet her properly, right?” Stiles asked after sitting up and kicking off his shoes.

“I know, and her name is Braeden,” Scott sighed, already annoyed with the conversation. “I've been able to hang out with Danny, so it's only fair and blah blah blah. Did Allison put you up to this while Danny and I were taking stuff out to the car?”

Stiles shook his head in the negative before pulling his entire mouth to one side in thought.

“Scott, I think I was going to choose Derek,” Stiles said suddenly. “I like Danny, I like making out with Danny, but I wanted to get to know Derek better. I haven't really tried to get to know Danny.”

“But didn't you guys have that big talk?” Scott pointed out. “The one where he told you all about prison and Jackson?”

“Yeah, and that was all Danny. The whole thing with Jackson, and prison, I think they may have played a part. Danny and I already have baggage, and we haven't even slept together. I haven't slept with anyone since Tyler, to be honest.”

“And I haven't slept with anyone since Allison. What's your point? What does it even matter?” Scott groaned unintentionally. He wanted to be here for Stiles, but it was hard because Stiles preferred to snark and move on, and this dwelling thing was new.

“Nothing, I guess. Never mind,” Stiles sighed. Scott felt bad, but stayed silent. “Did I ever tell you about Tyler?”

“Beyond him living in Virginia? No, you kinda told us nothing. At all.”

“Well, he's a closet case who introduced me to everyone as a friend from out of town visiting, he mocked my inexperience with men, and when I left at the end of my visit I punched him in the face. Well, he was also Latin, like you, but his mom and dad are both white so I think he might have been adopted. I don't know.

“It's just, with Lydia resurfacing and Derek dying, I've been examining things and wondering why I should even bother. Our lives weren't this messy this time last month. Being single and pathetic had its advantages. We gave that up too easily.”

“If you don't want to be with Danny, just break up with him. Don't treat him like you did Lydia. You know how messed up that whole thing with her was, yes?” Scott pointed out needlessly. “Listen, when Danny comes back, you can break up with him or you can ask for a break or you can be an adult and realize that nobody is perfect and you'll never be completely happy.”

“That's kind of harsh,” Stiles argued.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Look, I'm not trying to be an asshole, but you're making it hard. This is your pattern. You were all chummy with Danny until Derek died, and now you're all about Derek. You were happy with Lydia until you one day decided you weren't and you kicked her out and let me and Allison believe that she was at fault,” Scott stopped to catch his breath, but continued before Stiles could prevent him from reaching his conclusion. “Stiles, you need to stop sabotaging any attempt someone makes at making you happy.”

“Are you done, Reverend McCall?” Stiles snorted.

Scott threw his hands in the air and walked out of the apartment, the door slamming behind him.

TW

Danny had a key to the apartment, and Allison didn't. That was the logic she used when she had asked him to help her move into Lydia's apartment. The truth was that she needed someone she could talk to about what she was doing, and she didn't want to admit it to herself.

As they sat on Lydia's sofa drinking what they assumed was Jackson's beer, Allison's small collection of boxes sitting on the floor by the door, she realized that she had no idea what she was doing.

“I should probably tell Lydia that you know,” Allison suggested to Danny as she drank the lager. She wasn't a drinker, her Aunt Kate saw to that, but she needed something to take the edge off and she didn't want Lydia screaming at her for touching anything without permission. The beer seemed a safe bet. It also wasn't half bad.

“To be fair to you, I would've known eventually. I read the arrest reports daily. Just to see if I know anyone,” Danny confessed as he raised his beer. “Also, you know I'm not going home tonight.”

“Smart man,” Allison agreed as she clinked her bottle against his. “I'm supposed to crash on the couch, but there are two of us, and I suck at leg wrestling.”

“I can sleep on the floor. It's fine,” Danny assured Allison as he randomly checked his phone before putting it down.

“Expecting a call?”

Danny leaned back and closed his eyes. With perception rivalling that of a sober hawk, Allison saw him clench his fist before answering.

“This is gonna sound stupid, but I kind of expected Jackson to call or, at least, text me. But I've heard nothing. He may be an awful piece of shit, and I may be an idiot for saying this, but I'm worried about him and what he might do.”

“I've seen what he can do,” Allison muttered darkly as she remembered Lydia's battered face. “He better not come here, Danny. I'm not even kidding. I will kill the bastard.”

An uncomfortable silence fell across the duo, and Allison wished she hadn't said anything.

“Sorry,” she eventually said.

Danny didn't look at her when he responded. “It's fine. I can't excuse what he did, and I wouldn't try. This is why they say not to make friends in prison. You did know I'm an ex-con? And that that's how I know Jackson?”

“I hadn't,” Allison answered nervously, her grip tightening on her bottle as she instinctively shrank away from the man. Did Stiles know? If so, why hadn't he told her or Scott? And if he didn't, why was Danny telling her now?

Horrible things flashed through Allison's mind in the seconds before Danny continued.

“I served a year for hacking,” Danny told the floor.

Allison didn't relax. “You can have the couch, Lydia can deal with me using her bed for one night.”

Allison wasn't sure if Lydia's door locked, but even if it didn't, she could prop a chair or something under it. It wasn't that she knew Danny would do something, it was that she didn't know. He'd never been anything but kind to her, but she didn't know him and he had been in prison.

“Okay,” Danny sighed.

She set her half-empty beer on the table and patted her jacket pocket to make sure that she had her cell. With a polite, but tense “goodnight” to Danny, she walked into Lydia's bedroom and shut the door. To her relief, it did have a lock, and she didn't breathe until she heard it click in place.

Her ear was held to the door for about thirty seconds, but she didn't hear any sounds indicating that Danny was trying to follow her. Allison lied on Lydia's bed and pull her knees to her chest. Her heart was beating so loudly that it drowned out all other noises.

Why hadn't anyone told her about Danny's time in prison? Did Stiles even know? Stiles had to know, because Danny was so casual about it that she seriously doubted he would have lied to the guy he was dating.

Stiles knew and he had let her go with Danny.

Allison stood and pulled her phone from her pocket. Ignoring her trembling fingers, she pulled up her list of contacts and called Scott.

“Hey,” he sighed into the phone after the third ring.

“Did you know Danny was in prison?” Allison whispered into the phone while using her free hand to pull her bangs out of her face.

“For a year, yeah. Why?”

It took all the self-control Allison had not to start screaming obscenities into the phone.

“Don't you think that might have been important information for me to know? I mean, I'm kind of stuck with him since we drank some beers... and did I mention he was in prison?!” she hissed, mentally picturing Scott cringing at the sound of her voice.

“It was a non-violent offence, Allison. But do you need me to come get you from wherever you are?”

Her eyes locked onto the doorknob, as if daring Danny to try entering the room.

“No, I just... You should have told me, Scott. You and Stiles both.”

“Sorry,” he replied with sincerity in his voice. She hung up on him and walked over to the door. Breathing heavily, she reached out and unlocked it. It opened far more quietly than she had imagined.

Danny looked up at her from his place on the couch. She noted that he'd already kicked his shoes off and put them together under the coffee table. At least he was clean, she told herself.

“Sorry about my freakout,” Allison lied. “It's just, a woman can't ever be too careful. You know? Especially after what happened to Lydia.”

“It's okay,” Danny assured her while sitting up. She didn't make an attempt to approach him: just stayed in the doorway, cell phone visible in her right hand.

“I want you to know that I'm still fine with you dating Stiles, hanging out with us in a group, all that jazz. But it will be awhile before I'm comfortable being alone with you. I'm not meaning to judge you or make you feel bad, Danny, but I barely know you and tonight is an extenuating circumstance. I just want to be honest with you. You seem like a good guy, despite your past, and I feel like you deserve the truth.”

“Thanks, I guess,” he nodded, the disappointment on his face barely hidden.

“Goodnight,” she told him for the second time. Then she closed the door and locked it once more.

TW

“You haven't been home in awhile,” the sheriff told his son with a tired but ecstatic smile.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Stiles smiled.

The man had been Stiles' rock, raising him alone after his mom died, but it seemed like his age was finally catching up with him. His hair was almost completely grey and the beard he had grown was an attractive salt and pepper.

“So, are you seeing anyone yet?” The sheriff asked as he hung his hat and coat on hooks hung by the door. He didn't wear the hat often, but the local elementary school had him do a speech or something and the kids loved it.

“Yeah,” Stiles answered curtly.

“What's her name?” His dad sported a healthy grin, one he didn't see often. It was a reminder that his father was often more annoyed by his son's lot in life than proud. It made Stiles even more nervous.

“Danny,” he replied just as briskly. He kicked the door shut behind them and followed his father into the living room. He hadn't visited his father at home in months, hadn't even talked to him on the phone in over two weeks.

“Cute,” his dad said, still grinning. “Short for Danielle or something? Do I get to meet this one? Because I never got to meet that girl in West Virginia, or even see a picture.”

“It wasn't West Virginia, Dad. Just regular, good ole Confederacy loving Virginia. And believe me, you missed nothing there.”

“Want something to drink?” his dad suddenly asked, as if sensing how tense his son was growing and searching for a change in subject. “I have Coke and orange juice. I'm not supposed to drink the tap water anymore, but I think it's safe for you.”

“I'll take some of the tequila, because I know that's the only reason you keep the orange juice,” Stiles quipped with a laugh. The look on his dad's face showed that he didn't think it was that funny. “The juice is fine.”

A few moments later, his dad returned and handed Stiles a glass of the orange liquid and sat beside him on the sofa. It was old and threadbare, but his dad refused to throw it out. His mom had picked it out when they were first furnishing the house.

“I have to say, it was a shock to hear from you. A pleasant one, mind you, but a shock nonetheless. Usually, I have to call you, since you're all busy being a grownup. I miss you.”

“I missed you, too, Dad,” Stiles agreed before taking a drink.

“How are Scott and Allison?”

“Fine-ish. Scott is still a nurse, and Allison is still a janitor. She just moved out today, actually. Temporary, I swear, but she's being all secretive about it and blah blah blah.

“And now is where I become an ass, because I didn't ask you to pick me up just so we can visit.”

“Language,” his dad reminded him casually. “How much do you need?”

Stiles shook his head. “Put your wallet away, Dad, I've been getting good hours at work, and Allison is still paying rent. This is about a murder that happened recently. The victim's name was Derek Hale.”

His dad leaned back into the sofa and crossed his arms, looking at his son critically. “Do you know something about it?”

“No, but I knew Derek. Sorta.”

“Oh, Stiles,” his dad leaned forward and put a comforting hand on his knee. “Was the Hale guy a friend of yours?”

“We were sorta dating, actually.”

His dad didn't say anything at first, but his squeezed his son's knee and closed his eyes for a few seconds. When he opened them, he was smiling. “I owe your mom ten bucks.”

“What?”

“Your mom thought you were going to grow up gay. Don't know why: you hated Barbie. Must have been your obsession with Sailor Moon.”

It took a moment for Stiles to collect himself. “Dad, I'm not gay. And I was obsessed with Sailor Mars. Scott was the Serena fanboy.”

“Oh, right, you're dating that Danielle girl. So, you're pansexual?”

With a groan, Stiles covered his face with his hands. “Dad, how does your older than dirt self even know what pansexuality is? Never mind, I don't want to know. Dad, I'm bisexual, and Danny is a guy. I haven't dated a girl since Lydia. Heck, I haven't even dated guys much since Lydia.”

“I never liked Lydia,” his dad told him before pulling his son into a hug. “You know this changes nothing, right? I still love you.”

“And you only owe Mom five bucks,” Stiles teased as he reciprocated his father's embrace. “But dad, back to the reason I'm here: I do need a favour.”

“So you didn't come here to come out?” His dad sounded a little sad. Stiles found it weird.

“It was a possibility. A probability, even, but no, that's not why I wanted to see you. I need to see Derek. He's still at the morgue, and I...”

His dad looked at him, eyes full of sadness. “He meant a lot to you, didn't he? No promises, but I'll see what I can do. Any reason it has to be now: why you can't wait for the funeral?”

“Not one that I want to discuss, Dad. It's complicated and I don't understand it all myself. But thanks. I love you. You and Mom, both.”

TW

Scott didn't look at the chart until after he had entered the room. In his hospital, most nurses and doctors didn't. There was too much to do, you had to constantly be on the move. His patient made him wish he had.

“Lydia?” Scott asked the woman sitting in the bed before he searched the name on the medical records in his hands.

“I want a new nurse. Now,” she ordered coolly. He nodded and backed out of the room. If anyone asked why, he'd just claim a conflict of interest.

She looked horrible, and he knew why: Jackson.

“This patient would like another nurse assigned to her case,” Scott told his RN as he handed her Lydia's chart. “We have a conflict of interest.”

“Which would be what?” the nurse asked in disinterest.

“She used to live with me while dating my roommate. Bad breakup,” he half-lied. He knew that likely wasn't the reason Lydia didn't want him there, but it was close enough to the truth to alleviate a portion of his guilt.

“And she requested it, not you?” the woman asked as she eyed Scott suspiciously.

“The second I walked in the door,” he confirmed without skipping a beat.

“Well, I'll get Theresa to take this one, but you're gonna have to bathe the guy in room 305b.”

With a “thank you” that bordered on a complaint, Scott took the chart for his next patient and walked away.

The rest of his day was pretty much spent on auto-pilot. He changed bedpans, gave medications, and in the back of Scott's mind the spectre of Lydia loomed. When he finally got his lunch break, he wolfed down a sandwich and made a decision he was certain would get him in trouble with his bosses.

“Lydia?” Scott asked quietly, knocking on her half-open door.

“What do you want?” he heard her say, his eyes locked on the chair next to her bed. It was hard for him to look at her face. He'd treated several battered women in his shifts at the ER, but he hadn't known any of them. All of his desensitization was now out the window.

Scott carefully stepped into her room, ready to bolt if she told him to leave. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For annoying me?” The sound of the bedding moving almost caused Scott to look up at her face. Almost.

“For letting this happen to you. I should've stayed, I should've tried harder,” he told her in a choked voice.

When Lydia laughed at him, he did look up. She was holding her sides and her face was contorted with pain as her shoulders heaved, but she kept laughing. “You are so stupid. I mean, you always were, but I had forgotten just how slow you actually are.”

“What?” Scott just stood and stared at Lydia as she tried to collect herself.

After a handful of seconds, she wiped her eyes and they grew cold again. “You couldn't 'save' me because I didn't want to be saved, you moron. In fact, you made it worse. Jackson got a little rough from time to time, but he never once touched my face until that night. He thought I had conspired with you to get him thrown out of Cora's showing. So thanks for that.”

“Are you blaming me?” Scott asked incredulously. He had tried to help her. It wasn't his fault Jackson was an abusive sociopath!

“No,” Lydia shook her head and slowly crossed her arms over her chest, wincing only once. “I blame me for ever taking the asshole back, but I do blame you for trying to be Captain Save-A-Ho without thinking about the consequences of what you were doing.

“Hell, you aren't even here to make sure I'm okay: I will be, by the way. No permanent damage beyond some possible scaring. You just want to assuage your own guilt over the whole thing. You want to wash your hands of me and the whole thing and go back to your pathetic life with your pathetic girlfriend. Well, you're forgiven. Now please get the hell away from me.”

“Lydia...”

“Stop it, Scott. You have until the count of three before I page a competent nurse to come in here and have you removed.”

He gave her a sad, apologetic look before nodding and leaving.

The rest of his break was spent hiding in a stall in the bathroom trying not to cry. Because even though Scott had been genuinely sorry that anything had happened to Lydia, he was scared that she was right. That he had wanted to make himself feel better at her expense. And he didn't even have Allison to talk to about it anymore, and he really didn't want to talk to Stiles about his ex.

What Scott wanted to do was call Braeden and unload on her, but she was still dealing with Derek's death and his family. And it was way too soon in their relationship for him to run to her over every little thing, even if this was a particularly big one.

About the only person he felt he could go to with this development was Danny, but he was staying with Allison at wherever her new place was. And he had no idea how things were going with that after the call Allison had made earlier in the day.

But when it came to be time for Scott to return to work, he wiped his eyes and set himself to a determined state. Lydia didn't want his help, and he'd respect her wishes. He just hoped she would be okay.


	11. Chapter 11

“The doctor said you're not to do anything strenuous,” Allison barked as she slammed the apartment door shut and pointed at Lydia.

“Getting the mail is not strenuous, you vacuous bitch!” Lydia shouted as she clenched her fists. She fumed for a few seconds, but stormed over to the couch when she saw that Allison wasn't going to relent. “It's only two flights of stairs.”

“Yeah, and you just got home yesterday and those two flights of stairs nearly killed you,” Allison reminded Lydia. She crossed her arms and sat on the coffee table across from Lydia. “I'm going to ignore the 'bitch' crack because you're mad, but leave the heavy stuff for me. Please. And whatever I can't do, we can call Danny.”

Lydia rolled her eyes and pointed out that Danny lived on the other side of town. “When someone says you can call them for anything, they really mean that they don't want you to call at all.”

“Not everyone is as selfish as you are, Lydia,” Allison giggled, causing Lydia to crack a weary smile as well. “Thanks for not being too mad at me about filling Danny in about this. And for not freezing him out, even though he was Jackson's friend.”

“Unlike most people I know, I actually like Danny. Which may have been an oddly phrased sentence, but you know what I mean,” Lydia articulated poorly. She growled and scratched at the cushion upon which she sat. “Also, Allison, don't forget that you're not here to wait on me. I asked you to stay so that Jackson doesn't come in and pound on me again.”

With a shake of her head, Allison walked over to and opened the door again. “I know that, Lydia, but it's okay to let people help you. I'm going to go get the mail. I'll be right back.”

“And I'll be stuck here waiting,” Lydia replied as she snatched her tablet from the coffee tabled Allison had vacated. “Is it okay if I check my work emails, Oh Wise One?”

“Go for it,” Allison winked before closing the door and breathing in the hot, humid California air.

The apartment building Lydia lived in had once been a motel. She'd told Allison that during one of the hospital visits, explaining why the apartment only had two rooms, three if you counted the half-bath. Lydia lived on the third floor, technically, so Allison supposed it was actually a hotel, but she didn't want to argue over such a minor detail.

Allison let her hand run along the metal railing opposite the apartment doors, her view the building's parking lot and a small park across the street. To call it a park was an insult. There was just a bench and a seesaw. But the sign said it was a park, so that's what everyone called it.

When she reached the line of mailboxes, Allison pulled out the copy of the key Lydia had given her and looked for the one that matched Lydia's room number.

“Hey,” a feminine voice said behind Allison, causing the woman to whirl around.

The voice presumably belonged to the woman smiling at her, since there was nobody else around. She looked to be in her late thirties or early forties. She held a pale out to Allison and offered a warm smile, the skin around her eyes and mouth wrinkling.

“My name is Jennifer,” she said while Allison nervously shook her hand. “You just moved in with the redhead on the third floor, right? Your box is down on the end.”

“Thanks,” Allison offered after releasing the woman's hand and stepping out of her way. “Allison. My name, that is: my name's Allison. You know Lydia?”

“I wouldn't say I know her, but I'm in the apartment below hers. I'm glad I haven't seen her boyfriend around. He was always rude to everyone in the building, and...”

Sensing that Jennifer didn't want to say anything else, Allison interrupted. “I'm not moving in, actually. I'm just staying with Lydia for a spell.”

“It's none of my business, really,” the older woman assured Allison before walking over to and opening her mailbox. She pulled out a handful of envelopes before shutting it and locking it back up. When she turned around, Allison was still staring at her. “Well, nonetheless, welcome to the building for as long as you're here.”

Allison returned the smile and stared after Jennifer as the woman walked away. Then she remembered why she had come to the post boxes to begin with and walked to the end.

Nobody had checked Lydia's mail since she'd been admitted to the hospital. Danny had a key to the apartment, but not the mailbox. Lydia had handed Allison her key ring and a twenty dollar bill days before and gave her a list of which keys she would need copies of, and what they were for. For her own sanity, Allison had made each key cut from a different colour so she would know which was which.

The red key slid into its keyhole and turned effortlessly. Allison opened the lid and pulled out all of the postage, wondering just how the delivery person had managed to get it all to fit. Without even looking at what she had, she closed Lydia's box and locked the lid back in place.

“So, one of your neighbours finally deigned to talk to me,” Allison called out cheerfully when she walked back into Lydia's apartment.

Lydia looked up at Allison quizzically. She hadn't noticed before, but Allison was surprised by how quickly the swelling had gone done on Lydia's face, though the bruises remained.

“Which one of the freaks was it?” Lydia scoffed before looking back down to her tablet.

“Her name was Jennifer and she's not a freak. Or she didn't appear to be one. I don't know. She lives in the apartment below yours.”

When Lydia began bellowing, as it was far more than a laugh, Allison started frowning.

“I swear, I knew your people had a radar, but you never got it, did you?” Lydia chuckled loudly as she carefully wiped at her eyes.

“Do I want to know what that means?” Allison wondered idly as she set the envelopes on the table before taking the seat on the sofa that was next to Lydia.

Lydia turned her head and gave Allison a wink and accompanying smile. “It means that she's a lesbian like you, doof. An old one, yeah, but still. You really can't pick that stuff up?”

“She didn't look like a lesbian to me...” Allison let the thought trail off. She really needed to get around to watching The L Word at some point.

“Her partner Kali something or other is the butch one. Or the less femme one. However you dykes put it.”

“You do know that 'dyke' is an offensive slur, right?” Allison asked Lydia. The woman often lacked tact and was rude to everyone, but Allison didn't remember her being a bigot. They'd lived together for months with no issue before. Well, Allison's sexuality had never been an issue before.

Curiously, Lydia tilted her head. “It is? Then why do you guys keep calling each other that? And why do half the lesbians I know insist that it's been reclaimed and that it's fine if I say it?”

“They do?” Allison really needed to get to a PFLAG meeting or something. Scott had tried when she first came out, but Allison insisted that she wouldn't let her sexuality define her. As a consequence, she was starting to see that maybe she was out of touch with lesbian culture. She decided to ask her psychologist at her next appointment.

“The ones I talk to have, but sorry I offended you. I didn't mean to, well, call you a slur or whatever. If I were going to insult you, I'd call you an asshole or a dick or something,” Lydia said seriously, leading Allison to believe that she was being sincere.

“This reminds me of the time Stiles asked me if being called a 'queen' was offensive. I am so the world's worst lesbian,” Allison laughed.

Lydia sat her tablet down on the table next to the mail and reached for Allison's hands. Taken aback by the gesture, Allison just stared at her with her mouth hanging open.

“Stiles... is he... I'd heard through the grapevine that he was kind of dating Cora's brother. Is he gay? Is that why he dumped me?” Lydia's voice was strained, as though she were trying to hide the insecurity in it.

Nervously, Allison shifted on the couch before looking directly into Lydia's eyes and speaking clearly. “Lydia, I don't know why Stiles broke up with you, but you deserve better than both him and Jackson. You deserve to be treated like an actual human being, even if that means you end up single forever like me.”

“That doesn't answer my question, you dumb bitch,” Lydia replied with a grin that Allison readily returned.

“I don't know if I'd say he was seeing Derek, but he and Stiles were... they had a date. And I don't know if I mentioned it, but Stiles and Danny are dating. But I don't know if Danny knows about you two. I think he does, but I don't want to say for sure.”

“So Stiles is gay. He's still a heartless cunt for throwing me out, but it explains so much. Like why he kept watching those weird magical girl anime shows,” Lydia exclaimed, letting go of Allison's hands and snapping her fingers.

“You're a lot more animated than you were before I left,” Allison noted as she eyed Lydia.

Agreeing, Lydia nodded her head. “Oh yeah, my pain pills are kicking in.”

“Stiles isn't gay, Lydia. He's bisexual. And an asshole where you're concerned. But he's also one of my best friends, so can we let this go?”

“For now,” Lydia said. “But I still hate the bastard and I don't want him to know that you're helping me. It's bad enough Scott knows what Jackson did.”

“How does Scott know?”

“Dumbass nurses ignored my preemptive request that he not get assigned my case.”

TW

“The body... he's being released to his family tomorrow, and they're having the funeral in a couple days I guess,” Stiles father said, though he didn't acknowledge it. He felt his dad's hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do this alone? I can stay with you if you think it's too much.”

“I'm fine,” Stiles heard himself say as his eyes lingered on Derek's pale face. “Really, Dad, I'll only be a couple of minutes.”

Of you need me, I'll be waiting right outside.”

Stiles didn't reply to his father, but he felt the squeeze on his shoulder before his dad pulled away. Even after the door clicked shut, he remained silent. His feet slowly shuffled toward the examination table. The cool air of the morgue bit at his lungs.

Nervously, Stiles reached out and ran his fingertips along Derek's cheek. His skin was hard and cold: like a stone. Stiles jerked his hand back as if he had been burned.

“Why am I here?” he whispered to himself as he stepped back and bumped into another table. This one was empty, and Stiles lifted himself onto it. Holding his fingers over his mouth, he debated internally what he was doing. Derek was still practically a stranger. Stiles knew nothing about him. It made no sense for him to be spending time alone with this man's corpse.

So he decided not to react. He wouldn't show up at the funeral, or even the showing at the funeral home.

“I'm ready to go,” Stiles told his father after climbing off the table and stepping out of the room.

“That was fast.”

“It was enough,” the son told the father coolly. He didn't want to bother with any deep questions. The tone in his voice should have been sufficient to cut off any particular line of questioning.

There wasn't even a thought of thanking his father when he got home. After his dad drove off, it occurred to Stiles that he should, and he swore that he would call him later that night.

His key was in his door when he changed his mind. Stiles pulled it out and walked down the hall. Danny answered the door on the third knock.

“What's up?” he asked Stiles as he leaned forward, one hand on his hip and the other propping him against the door frame. He wore sweat pants and a white t-shirt, both soaked with sweat.

To answer, Stiles grabbed Danny at the hips, his hand on top of Danny's, and pulled him forward. Danny tasted of garlic and smelled of sweat. He clearly hadn't been expecting anyone to stop by. Stiles spied what looked like a Wii Fit balance board on the floor.

“Well, hello,” Danny greeted with a heavy blinked when he finally broke away from Stiles. “That was unexpected. And here I am, all gross. Unless you find sweaty workout clothes sexy.”

“I don't mind,” Stiles smiled as his hands moved from Danny's hips to under his shirt, fingernails lightly digging into Danny's back. Awkwardly, Danny backed into his apartment as Stiles buried his face in Danny's neck and inhaled his scent. One of them kicked the door shut, but Stiles wasn't sure which one had done it.

“Can I clean up a bit?” Danny asked before Stiles moved his hands up to his shoulders, dragging his shirt up as well.

Stiles shook his head. “I like you this way. You're here. You're solid. I can touch you. I want to touch you.”

“I appreciate that.” Danny responded by reaching around and cupping Stiles ass in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“I'm great.” Stiles used his arms to indicate to Danny that he should lift his, and he pulled Danny's shirt off. They kissed again and Danny's fingers started to slip past the elastic band of Stiles' boxers when the sobbing started.

Inwardly, Stiles started to hate himself as he cried into Danny. For his part, Danny pulled his mouth away and pulled Stiles' head to his bare chest.

Even as he heaved in Danny's arms, he still wasn't sure why he was crying. Was it over Derek? As his mind raced at a thousand thoughts a second, he blocked out Danny's words and focused on his heartbeat.

After a few minutes of Danny holding Stiles and whispering things that neither would remember, Stiles had recovered enough to break away and support himself. He wiped his eyes, embarrassed at his behaviour, and kept his eyes on the floor as he ran to Danny's door and threw it open. Even though he was halfway down the hall when Danny caught him and grabbed his arm, Stiles made no attempt to jerk away.

“Are you okay?” Danny asked again, his voice heavy. “Look, do you need me to call Scott or Allison? If you don't want to talk to me, that's fine.”

“I'm so sorry,” Stiles whispered. He was sure that if he spoke at a normal volume, he would break again.

“Do you want to be alone right now? Because I don't think it's a good idea.”

Stiles handed Danny his key ring but didn't say anything.

TW

Scott didn't question why Danny and Stiles were lying in bed together until he noticed that Stiles was fully clothed. He kicked his shoes off and closed the door. Danny raised his head and looked at Scott, down to Stiles, then back to Scott. He yawned and stretched. Scott could hear the squeaking of the springs in the mattress as Danny got him, but he'd already made his way over to the percolator. He needed caffeine after his hellish day at work.

“I take it you guys had fun?” Scott laughed lightly, so as not to wake his roommate. He tried not to, but Scott noted Danny's abs and felt immensely jealous.

“Not what you're thinking,” Danny said before following Scott's eyes to his bare chest. “Um, seriously, we didn't have sex in your bed.”

“I would hope not. Allison is the only one who knows how to use those stretchy clips to keep the sheet in place, and I'm not up to changing the bedding,” Scott teased before offering Danny a cup of coffee, which his neighbour readily accepted.

Danny took the steaming mug and joined Scott at the small dining table.

“So, you take it black, then,” Scott noted as Danny began drinking. “I found this new blend at the farmers market. Apparently, one of the local wineries imports these beans from Peru or something. I don't know. If you don't like it, I can get you something else.”

“It's fine, thanks,” Danny assured Scott. “You know, I think this might be the first time I've been in your place.”

“Are you sure? I could've sworn you just helped us move Allison out, and there was another time I can't remember,” Scott reasoned before drinking his own coffee. It really was rich and delicious like the vendor had promised.

“I guess that's true, but really I was in and out that entire time. This is the first time I've hung around. Wait, no, there was the day that Derek guy died. Otherwise, Stiles likes to hang out at my place.”

“Because Allison and I embarrass him,” Scott shrugged with a mischievous grin. “So, Danny, if I may: if you weren't here banging my best friend's brains out, why the hell were you in my bed?”

“You guys really don't have boundaries, do you?” Danny asked with wide eyes.

“Nope,” Scott answered with the same grin. “You should hear how we talk when nobody else is around.”

Danny sighed and ran a finger around the rim of his coffee cup. “Scott, in all seriousness, Stiles isn't in the best place right now. He came over to my place while I was working out...”

“That explains the lack of a shirt,” the nurse interrupted. The serious look on Danny's face made him shut up.

“Anyway, he broke down Scott. He didn't tell me why, but I think it was because of that guy Derek. I'm trying to not be a jealous asshole, but I don't want to have to keep comforting my boyfriend over someone else he dated.”

“I get it, Danny. I really do. Normally, Allison and I would be here for him...”

“But you have a job and new relationship of your own and Allison is busy with Lydia,” Danny finished with a tired face.

“Wait. What does Allison have to do with Lydia? What do you know about Lydia?”

“Shit!” Danny cursed into his coffee before leaning back and looking at Stiles. When satisfied that the man was asleep, Danny looked back to Scott. “I'm not supposed to tell you.”

“Danny, I saw Lydia at the hospital a few days ago, and I know he's your friend but Jackson really worked her over. If Allison is involved with them, I need to know,” Scott ordered with a growl at the end.

Eyes looking at something just past Scott's shoulder, Danny let out a low groan before speaking. “Jackson is still on the run, Scott. I guess Lydia is pressing charges this time.”

“This time? You knew that Jackson was beating the crap out of her and you just hung out with them anyway?” Scott was incredulous.

“I swear, I didn't know,” Danny defended as he held one hand up. “Not that it's an excuse or anything. It's just... Looking back, I didn't want to know and neither one wanted anyone to know. We all lied to each other and ourselves, but that's neither here nor there.

“Allison is staying with Lydia until she's able to take care of her and Jackson is in custody. I don't think Jackson will be going there. He's an asshole, but he's not stupid.”

Scott tried to look into Danny's eyes, but couldn't get the other man to do the same. “Why would you go along with this? This is a terrible idea. You have to know that.”

“What I know is that my best friend put his girlfriend in the hospital, and your roommate wanted to help her out. Neither wanted you to know, but I can't keep a secret to save my life.”

“You need to tell Stiles,” Scott sighed as he looked over at his sleeping friend. “I can help if you want.”

“I'm not even supposed to be telling you.”

With a tired shrug, Scott took a long drag from his cup. He liked Danny, but he knew Stiles. It really wasn't Scott's business what Danny or Lydia was doing. It wasn't even Stiles' business anymore what Lydia did, but that didn't mean Stiles would be reasonable about anything. Especially after how weird he'd become since Derek had died.

“Look, whatever you do, that's your business. But you're dating Stiles and lying to him about his ex-girlfriend and one of his best friends. And if he learns about it from someone other than you, he may be an ass about it. I mean an honest-to-god prick. It's not pretty.

“I'm just trying to watch out for you. You're probably the first person Stiles has dated that I've actually liked.”

Stiles groaned, and both men looked over at him, but he did not wake. Scott watched as Danny let out a relieved breath. “Man, how did it go from dating the cute guy down the hall to this complicated mess so fast? It hasn't even been a month, Scott. I haven't known any of you for a month. This is insane.”

“You think I don't know that? Dude, this time last month all I did was go to work and hang out at a coffee joint when I wasn't here. Now I'm a pallbearer for someone I only knew casually and dating a gal who wouldn't tell me her name for, like, a week.”

“Gal? Do people still say gal?” Danny smirked, breaking the tension that had been building between the two.

“Us heteros do, Danny Boy,” Scott laughed, finally, but unintentionally, stirring Stiles.

They both looked at him again, and he wiped the drool from the side of his face with the back of his hand. “Scott, why are you talking to Danny while he isn't wearing a shirt? Danny, why aren't you wearing a shirt?”

“Hello to you, too, sleeping beauty,” Scott laughed again as Danny stood and walked to the bed.

The tall man crouched next to the bed, elbow resting on the mattress, and smiled at Stiles. Scott didn't look away as they kissed, but he did take a sudden interest in his coffee.

“We were just talking,” Danny answered when they split. “Also, you totally have morning breath right now.”

Suspicion was in the edges of Stiles voice when he asked what they were talking about.

“I'll give you guys some privacy,” Scott told them as he stood, coffee cup drained. He directed the next sentence to Danny. “Unless you want me to stay?”

“It's good. I'm good,” Danny assured Scott warily. He turned back to Stiles. “Listen, there is something I need to tell you.”

Scott never heard what Danny would say to Stiles. He knew what it was, but he honoured his new friend's wishes and walked away. All Scott heard of the conversation was the sound of his front door shutting.

TW

In the end, it wasn't worth it for Allison to get mad. She could hear Lydia screaming obscenities into the phone, and could imagine the ones on the other end with ease. Getting mad would solve nothing. She never should have asked Danny to keep it a secret. It was unfair.

Stiles, though, she would have words with him. It wasn't a surprise that things had gone where they had. Even when they were together, Stiles and Lydia had often bickered over the stupidest things. They never fought outright, but that was then. Now they were exes and wanted to do nothing more than fight. It was annoying.

The railing was cold against Allison's back. She didn't even have her phone to occupy her time, as Lydia was abusing the tiny microphone built into it. So she just stared at the plain door to Lydia's apartment and closed her eyes. If she tried really, really hard she wouldn't remember her mother saying to her the things Lydia was saying to Stiles.

Allison shouldn't have handed over her phone. She should have told Stiles to shut up, or hung up on him, or taken the call outside. This was the last thing Lydia needed. Or it was the exact right thing. Maybe she needed an outlet for her frustration. There was no way for Allison to know until she walked back into the apartment, and she wasn't doing that until about ten minutes after the screaming stopped.

She shifted her position and looked away from the door and to the town that she'd called home since she was seventeen. It didn't seem like the kind of place to have abusive assholes and parents who would disown their children without looking back. Allison wondered what kind of place did look like that.

“If you loved your mother as much as you say you do, you would've stopped when she begged.” Allison whispered, repeating the last thing her father had said to her. No wonder she was a mess. Even if her psychologist was right and Allison's issues with women were far more than issues with her parents, Allison couldn't deny that her mother and father both wreaked havoc on her psyche.

Looking back at the door, Allison sighed. Lydia was still screaming into the phone, but she seemed to have run out of English curses and was now doing French or something. She hated that Lydia was multilingual. Allison could barely get by in a conversation when she visited Scott's relatives in Guaymas when they visited after graduating from high school, and she'd studied Spanish for four years.

Also, she missed her percolator. Lydia's coffee machine was crap and the only place within walking distance was a Starbucks and Allison didn't care for buying from a large chain.

The fact that Lydia was now stringing together German and Danish insults told Allison that she would be waiting awhile.


	12. Chapter 12

“My name is Stiles, and I'm not an alcoholic, but my mother was killed by one. Drunk driver,” Stiles said robotically. It'd been years since he'd been to an Al-Anon meeting. He used to sneak out and come to them in high school: his dad probably thought he was going to a party, or to be a third wheel on yet another epic Scott and Allison romantic adventure.

Stiles made sure his dad never found out what he was doing.

He sat and listened to the stories of the other dozen or so people. Some were teens, like he had been at first, but most of them were adults easily a decade or more his senior. They all talked about a drunken friend, or a relative. One man talked about his wife's drunken rampages and tried to hide his split lip by biting on it. He reminded Stiles of Lydia, so Stiles stopped looking at him.

Whenever the introductions finished, Stiles had always chosen to be a silent participant. He didn't experience the horror that these people did. His dad stopped drinking after his mom died. His dad stopped a lot of things, but thankfully he never stopped loving his son.

When the session leader came to Stiles, he did try to speak this time. He managed to get out half of a syllable before his voice broke and he waved for the next person to take over.

He has been hoping that saying the words aloud would help, that they'd make his thoughts concrete. Voicing his concerns with a room full of strangers who had silently promised to not judge each other should have been easy. It was proving to be one of the hardest things in his life. It was impossible.

The only thing Stiles could do was to sit there and try his best to not go insane from the doubts eating away at the meagre confidence he's tried to instill in himself that morning. Words had failed him when he'd needed them most, and he wondered if that was a sign.

A woman was speaking, she was blonde and pretty and vaguely familiar. She was talking about her friend or boyfriend whose father had beat him when he was growing up and how all through high school and the following years he was a drunk. He thought her name was Erin, but he wasn't sure. She said her friend was celebrating three months of sobriety, but that she felt guilty because she had doubted he would even last that long.

If he were honest to himself, Stiles had no right to be at this meeting. Alcohol barely played a role in his troubles. He was leeching off of these people, using their misery to make himself feel better. If only it were working as well now as it did when he wasn't old enough to vote.

The rest of the meeting was spent going through the motions: smiling when the people around him smiled, frowning when they frowned. Then they broke for the complimentary doughnuts and coffee. Stiles remained seated.

“The jelly-filled ones go fast,” the blonde woman from before said as she sat next to Stiles as gave him a small smile. “This must be your first meeting. I know we already did introductions, but I'm Erica.”

“Stiles,” he returned with a limp wave. “It's not my first meeting, just my first one in a long time. I thought I had moved on, but clearly I haven't.”

“Forgive me for prying, but you said your mom died? Let me offer my condolences,” Erica said sympathetically. “Listen, why don't I go get you a coffee? Consider it a welcome to the club gesture. Do you want a doughnut, too?”

“Just coffee will be fine, thanks,” Stiles answered warmly. Erica stood and walked to the refreshments table. He couldn't help but watch her.

She returned with a coffee in each hand and a cruller in her mouth. Stiles accepted the hot drink and thanked the woman. Erica bit off the end of her doughnut and offered a close-lipped grin.

“Since you didn't want to share with the group, do you want to talk one-on-one? We don't have to if you don't want to, but it helps,” Erica told him. “I've been doing this for a year now, myself.”

“It's not so much that I don't want to share, as it is that I shared. My mom was killed by a drunk driver. Some British guy: they never told me his name, but I do know he was legally blind. I guess he could still see, just not well. So even if he were sober, he never should've been driving. He got fifteen years with the possibility of parole. I got a dead mother. It doesn't seem like a fair trade.”

“That's putting it lightly,” Erica agreed awkwardly. She quickly finished her doughnut, looking as if she had nothing else to say.

They drank their coffee, a few moments of silence between them interrupted by the chatter of the others in the room. Stiles wasn't sure if they were just breaking or if people were loitering to avoid going to their toxic home lives.

“So, your roommate is an alcoholic?” It wasn't the best icebreaker, but it was the one Stiles had available.

“Recovering alcoholic. He was never violent or anything, but he hit rock bottom and tried to kill himself. I'm the one who found him. I had to shove my fingers down his throat to try to make him vomit while waiting for 911 to pick up,” Erica sniffed as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She preemptively wiped them with the sleeve of her jean jacket, smearing her eye liner. Stiles said nothing about it. “I'm just glad that he's doing okay. That was six months ago.”

At this, Stiles cocked his head. “But I thought you said he was three months sober.”

“I did,” Erica nodded. “Stiles, listen, I would never say that you don't belong here, but you haven't ever seen someone hit rock bottom. It's a terrifying thing. I still cry about it. And he knows I come to these meetings. He's never come with me, but I'm the one who took him to his first AA meeting. Our other roommate, he didn't realize how bad it was until the suicide attempt. I've offered to bring him to meetings, but he says he doesn't need them. I hope he's right.”

“Damn,” was all Stiles could say before an alarm clock started buzzing. The few that hadn't already left did so glumly, realizing that they had lost one of the few safe places in their lives until the next week. Erica and Stiles walked out together, both still brandishing half-empty Styrofoam cups of coffee.

“So, will you be back next week?” Erica asked Stiles. They stepped out of the building and into the sunshine.

“I might,” he told her. “It depends on work. I don't exactly have a set schedule.”

She placed her free hand on Stiles' forearm and gave yet another smile, though this one was big and cheerful. “Well, I hope you do. You look like you need someone to talk to.”

Stiles just stood there in shock as Erica released him and power walked over to a dark blue van. Two men sat in the front seats waiting. For a moment, Stiles allowed himself to wonder whether the black one or the white one was the drunk. Then he shook his head and began walking in the direction of the nearest bus stop.

TW

“Why did I think introducing you two was a good idea?” Scott groaned before burying his face in arms.

“You didn't, Scrubs. Remember? Allison is the one who stole your phone and demanded we meet,” Braeden pointed out as she looked up from Allison's phone long enough to see the top of her boyfriend's head.

Allison liked Braeden. She was pretty, funny, had a job, and seemed to like Scott for Scott. It was good to finally see him moving on from her. Not that she thought he was still hung up on her, but it was getting pretty pathetic to have him lounging around the apartment all the time: that was her gig. Or it was before Lydia became her new roommate. How long was it gonna take to catch Jackson?

“Come on, Scott, if it weren't for us getting together, you never would've gotten that new suit for the funeral tomorrow,” Allison noted calmly. She had only met Derek a few times, but she was aware that Braeden knew him quite well.

“I had a suit that would have worked just fine,” he grumbled, his arms muffling his words.

“You asked me if you could wear you prom tux to a wedding, Scott,” Allison reminded him. “Your silver tux. From when you were five years younger and twenty pounds lighter.”

“I am not fat, Allison!” Scott cried as he looked up the exact same moment the waitress walked over with their drinks. Allison fought back a giggle as she took her sweet tea.

When the waitress walked away, presumably to get their food or serve another table, Scott glared at Allison as she tried to not bust a gut.

“I never said you were fat, Scott, but you aren't a high school athlete anymore,” Allison snickered.

Sitting next to Scott, Braeden put an arm around his shoulder and her free hand on his chest. “It's okay, Scrubs, I like my men with a little meat on their bones.”

“I'm going to the bathroom, you character assassins.”

“You didn't use that correctly!” Allison teased as he stormed off. Then she looked to Braeden and shrugged. “He'll get over it.”

“You tease him a lot?” the woman asked, an amused look on her face as she leaned over the table to continue watch Scott's retreat. “Damn, but he has a nice ass. I know you're gay because no straight woman would ever give that up.”

“Oh, Scott told you I'm a lesbian?” Allison didn't know why she was shocked, but she was. It wasn't like she was in the closet.

Braeden quirked an eyebrow. “Well, he had to give me some sort of explanation as to why he still lived with his high school sweetheart.”

“That is a long and complicated story I'll let him tell you. This is about whether or not I approve of you,” Allison winked. “So far, I do: just for the record.”

“That's good to know,” Braeden toasted as she raised her glass of horchata. “I swear, this stuff is so much better when it's homemade, but the restaurant stuff beats the heck out of the mix they sell in stores.”

“I had horchata a couple times in Mexico. It was... different,” Allison commented cautiously. “I don't like rice milk, so I was only able to sort of enjoy it. The Hispanic people I know love it, though. I guess I'm just too white.”

“Tch, you white people do love to be bland. I grew up with this stuff. My dad is half-Mexican and half-Dominican. Moved to California from New Jersey right out of high school where he met my mom who had moved here from Louisiana. She's Creole. So I had A LOT of different foods growing up,” Braeden explained casually, though Allison tried to remain just as cool. “Allison, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she nodded a little too quickly. “My family is French, I think. Or, at least, my dad's side is. My mom is probably Scottish because she was a redhead. I never bothered to learn.”

“It's okay to talk about my not being white, Allison. Lighten up. Besides, you're half-ginger and these days that's worse than being black from what I hear,” Braeden snorted, which encouraged Allison to relax. “Listen, just try not to be a racist bitch around me and we're cool, okay?”

“Okay, we're cool,” Allison agreed as she held her tea out. Braeden clinked her glass against it. “So, what do you do for a living? Scott wouldn't tell me when I grilled him.”

“My brother is a vet, and I kind of work for him feeding the animals and such. He wanted me to go to school to be a vet or at least a technician, but that just wasn't in the cards for me. I want to be a writer. In fact, I have a blog that gets about five hundred individual hits a week.”

“Groovy,” Allison said before taking a drink. “What's the name of your blog?”

“Look, I didn't tell Scott, so I won't tell you. It's one of those things I have a pseudonym for,” Braeden answered defensively. “I'll just say that I like what I do.”

“I can respect that. It's not like I'm some great career woman,” Allison said. “I mean, I'm a college dropout working as a janitor in a public radio station. I don't think you can go any lower than that without working fast food. Not that I'm better than fast food workers, but you know what I meant.”

“Yes, I know what you meant,” Braeden snorted again. “At least you went to college. I graduated from high school and decided I didn't need a degree. What's the point in spending tens of thousands of dollars on a writing degree when people are making millions on poorly written drivel?”

“I hope that's a dig on Twilight,” Allison laughed.

“It was actually directed at The Hunger Games, but Twilight applies, too.” Braeden shrugged and took a drink of her horchata.

Allison's jaw dropped open it shock, but she made a production of pushing it back in place. “Seriously? I loved The Hunger Games. Katniss kicked so much ass!”

“Meh,” Braeden shrugged with disinterest. “Kickass female lead or not, the first book bored me to tears. Never bothered with the sequels or the movies.”

“Hipster,” Allison teased with a grin.

“You take that back!” Braeden proclaimed with feigned offence. Then she snorted into her drink, spilling some on the table. She was wiping it up when Scott returned.

He smiled at the two women, which made Allison suspicious.

“What did you do?” she inquired with distrust dripping from her voice.

“Can I just say that you aren't the only one who can embarrass somebody?” Scott replied with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Braeden tapped Scott on his shoulder. “What did you do, Scrubs?”

He just whistled. Allison recognized the tune and turned pale. “You didn't. You bitch.”

“What?” Braeden asked Allison as she poked Scott in the arm.

She got her answer in the form of two waitresses and one waiter walking toward them. Each waitress held a cupcake in hand and the waiter was leading them in song.

Scott just raised his eyebrows and waited for the birthday congratulations to end.

TW

“That was mean,” Braeden reminded Scott again as they bid Allison farewell. “It was really, really mean.”

“It was funny,” Scott argued with a good-natured grin. “Besides, you got a free cupcake.”

“I like Allison.” Braeden wrapped an arm around Scott's waist, hand settling on his hip. He leaned into her, arm wrapped around her shoulder. “I can see why you fell for her.”

Scott cleared his throat and looked up at the sky overhead. “I love Allison, but I haven't been in love with her for years. We've been over this.”

She shook her head and licked her lips. “I know, Scrubs. Chill. Nobody is saying you're hung up on her. Besides, I'm more her type than you are.”

“I'm the one she dated all through high school,” Scott pointed out, not knowing why.

“Then Allison is gonna find herself a nice, sexy, short Latina some day. But you are my dorky, short Latino and you will just have to accept it,” Braeden warned before snorting again.

“I'm not sexy?” Scott whined with faux concern.

“Let me get back to you on that,” Braeden winked. She untangled herself from Scott and started walking in the direction opposite of Allison. “So, just to double check, I'm picking you up tomorrow morning at ten?”

“Yeah. I'm working the night shift tonight so I can get home around seven. Should be enough time to eat and shower. I couldn't get anyone to cover on such short notice, but one of the girls did switch shifts. By the way, I have to cancel our date Saturday.”

“We never had a date for Saturday.”

“Oh, then I'll have to call my other girlfriend and cancel,” Scott retorted cheekily. Braeden playfully smacked his butt.

“First of all, I'm your girlfriend now? And second, when I said you're my dorky Latino, I meant it.”

“You're not my girlfriend, you're mi corazon,” Scott told Braeden before leaning in to kiss her again. She returned the gesture, burying one hand in Scott's hair and pulling him closer with the other.

They broke apart and Braeden looked into Scott's eyes. “You wouldn't call me a fool if I told you that I love you, even though we've only had one official date?”

“I could have sworn we had two dates under our belts, but you are the furthest thing from a fool. Te amo mi querida.”

“I don't remember you begin this swarthy before. Or multilingual,” Braeden noted, her hot breath beating on Scott's lips. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Scott leaned forward and whispered in Braeden's ear. “Would it work if I told you that is exactly what I am doing?”

“How far do you live from here? Because I know that I'm quite the walk away,” Braeden informed Scott as she put a hand on his chest and pushed back, putting some space between them and breaking the moment. “And I still want to know how I never picked up on you speaking Spanish before.”

“It's about a ten minute walk, and I almost never use my Spanish skills in public. There tends to be disapproving stares.”

“Well, you can always speak that beautiful tongue around me, Scrubs. I took French in high school, so I have no idea what you're saying, but it sounds delicious when you say it. And you have ten minutes to get your apartment empty so I can put your tongue to work on other things.”

“Si, Jefe!” Scott shouted happily before calling Stiles.

TW

Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat and knocked on Danny's door. Danny was always home. He was always willing to listen to Stiles. Stiles just hoped that was still the case.

The door opened a crack and Danny stuck his head out the door. “Hey.”

There wasn't a trace of unpleasantness in Danny's voice, so Stiles took it as a positive sign. He needed as many as he could get after how he'd treated the man. “Can I come in? Scott is bringing his new lady friend by to have sex and... And we need to talk about the other day.”

“You mean when you called me a cunt and threw me out of your place?” Danny posited without only a hint of annoyance in his voice. He sighed and looked back into the empty apartment before opening the door. “Get your ass in here.”

“Sure,” Stiles thanked Danny as he slipped past him. He stopped in the middle of the room and watched Danny close the door. Danny walked past Stiles without a word and sat on the couch. It was an action both expected and deserved. Stiles followed and, when he wasn't reproached, sat next to the other man. “I've been an ass.”

“I can't disagree with that,” Danny nodded as he fiddled with his PlayStation controller. He didn't turn on the system.

There was a long stretch of silence as Stiles wracked his brain for the right words to say and Danny did his best to remain patient. Neither man looked at the other.

“I suppose I've been an asshole longer than I was willing to admit,” Stiles finally said. Danny didn't look at him, but he did put the controller down. “This relationship, our relationship, it's still new and exciting and I enjoy the hell out of it, but I've been awful to you. And not just the other day.

“When we first got together, I didn't tell you I was dating Derek. And when it came out I was seeing both of you, I told you that I wasn't choosing.”

“We agreed to that. That we'd be casual,” Danny confirmed in a strained voice. He really was doing his best not to start yelling. Stiles doubted that Danny would ever realize how much he appreciated that. “I told you I was fine with it. And I was.”

“But we weren't casual, Danny. I hung out at your place. We had some fairly heavy make out sessions.”

“It sounds so high school when you put it that way,” Danny cringed as he finally looked at Stiles. His eyes were unreadable.

“You have a better way to put it?” Stiles asked with crossed arms.

Danny sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “Continue.”

“Right, right, it was unfair of me to say one thing and do another. Derek and I were barely anything. Then he died, and I started acting weird with you. With everyone, really, but especially with you. You deserve to know why.”

“Does this have to do with why you and Lydia hate each other so much? Because after she got done with you she called me and started cursing up a streak.” Danny allowed a flash of a grin to play at his lips before they fell back to a passive frown.

Fingers toyed with the hem of his pants as Stiles spoke. “Maybe. I know why Lydia hates me, and I don't blame her at all. Our relationship was toxic as hell and we were mentally and emotionally abusive to each other. I never laid a finger on her, but I think what I did to her left marks a lot deeper than anything Jackson ever did. I just think we moved too fast, she moved in after we dated for a month or so. I don't remember.”

“This sounds lovely,” Danny groused. Even though Danny had every right to behave how he was, Stiles still found it grating his nerves. He missed the guy who bought him a scarf even though he knew Stiles would never wear it.

“I'm a lovely guy,” Stiles offered, but Danny didn't return the quip. With a shake of his head, Stiles found himself ready to continue. “Anyway, Derek died and I started telling myself, for no real reason, that when it came down to it that I was going to pick him over you when the time came to choose.”

“That is a lovely thing to hear from the guy you're dating,” Danny groaned as he wiped his face with his hands. “You really are quite the catch.”

Stiles chose to overlook the sarcastic addendum.

“I self-sabotage, Danny. I'd already picked you, I just hadn't realized it. But Derek died and I did what I do best: I screw myself and everyone around me over. Scott and Allison have picked up the pieces of my self-esteem I don't know how many times, but this time they didn't. You did. By just being there, even when you didn't want to be there, you were the one. You were my one.”

“Stiles...” They both waited for a handful of heartbeats, but Danny didn't have anything else to say.

“I don't think I ever told you that my mom died. She was killed by a drunk driver when I was a kid. No prolonged suffering, no wasting away from cancer, she just died without warning. Like Derek did. And I don't want to play at being a shrink, because I'd be terrible at it, but I think that's why it hit me so hard even though I barely knew the guy.”

Stiles palms were sweaty and he wiped them on the leg of his pants. His eyes burned and his throat began to dry, but he pressed on.

“Derek was nothing more than a guy I talked to a few times. He could have been, but it's a non-issue now. The issue is how I've been the shittiest guy on the planet to the greatest one. I took out my frustrations with Lydia on you and I wish I hadn't. There's nothing that will take away what I said or did.”

“There isn't,” Danny agreed calmly. “But there is one thing that will make it better.”

“Forgiveness?” Stiles asked.

Danny's hand was warm on Stiles' cheek. A thumb brushed away tears that Stiles hadn't even realized were falling.

“Forgiveness,” Danny repeated with a warm smile. “Look, I'm like you. This is all new and messy and absurd, but I like you most of the time. If you can work on the asshole thing, I can work on forgiving you. In the future, you can do the same for me. Because I can guarantee that when you do see my carefully hidden inner bitch, you won't like it.”

“You? A bitch? I just can't see it,” Stiles laughed with relief as he placed his hand on Danny's. “But it's a deal. There's just one more thing I should tell you, since I'm being super honest right now.”

“Oh, god, you aren't trans are you?” Danny retracted his hand, but a smile was on his face. “Because I'm fine with people being who they are, but I need a penis when I have sex with a guy.”

“No,” Stiles laughed heartily. “That's good to know, I guess, but no. There is one other guy you should know about. His name is Tyler.”

“You were dating a third guy? Dammit, Stiles,” Danny said as he shook his head.

“Nah, Tyler happened well before I met you or Derek. He was the first guy I ever got involved with, and he was almost the first guy I slept with,” Stiles assured Danny. “We met online right after I broke up with Lydia. We did the cyber dating thing, then I flew out to Virginia to vacation with him and it was a disaster.

“My second or third night there, we were going to have sex and I freaked. He wanted me to bottom and I had no idea what I was doing and I had a panic attack. Tyler held me and talked me through it, but we never consummated. I thought we were fine, that we were just going to take it slow, but my last night there Tyler told me I wasn't ready to be with another guy. I thought he was being an asshole, but I think he was right.”

“So, you've never slept with another guy?”

“That's what you got from that?” Stiles laughed. It was so ridiculously obvious a question he didn't know why he hadn't expected it. “I've fooled around with guys, but there's never been penetration. God, that's embarrassing to admit out loud, but whatever.”

“So, are you ready?” Danny wondered idly as he grabbed Stiles by the wrist.

Stiles blinked. “Are you wanting to have sex right now? After I pour my heart out to you? Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Then I'm gonna have to be the one to give you blue balls,” Danny told Stiles. “Sex isn't that important to me. I have porn for that. I just want to make sure that you're here emotionally. Because if I'm going to invest any further into this mess, I need to know that you are, too. Because I have a feeling we somehow skipped several important steps in the dating rulebook tonight.”

“I'm your boyfriend whether you like it or not,” Stiles saluted, making Danny chuckle.

“You are such a dumbass,” the man told Stiles with a cheesy grin before leaning in to kiss him.


	13. Chapter 13

“Cunnilingus is fun. I see why you're a lesbian now,” Scott told Allison while Stiles gave him a thumbs up.

“And with that, I'm hanging up,” Allison informed him. Then he heard the silence that indicated the call had been severed.

Stiles plopped a bowl of steaming oatmeal in front of Scott. “Are you ready? I mean, it's gonna be a pretty dreary day for you, even if the sun is all shining and happy and stuff.”

“Are you sure you don't want to go? I'm sure Braeden wouldn't mind giving you a ride, too,” Scott offered his friend. Stiles dug around in a drawer before producing a spoon. He threw it at Scott, who attempted to catch it but ended up getting hit in the chest.

“Allison and Lydia are gonna be there, aren't they?” Stiles asked cautiously, waiting for Scott to confirm or deny. Scott nodded his head. “Then yeah, that's even more reason not to go. Things with Danny are good but fragile. I don't want to mess it up again. Besides, I already made plans. Danny is getting to meet the family.”

Scott shook his head and grinned. “Isn't it a little soon for you to be introducing your dad to your boyfriend? Don't you need to actually come out first? I don't exactly know how that whole thing works, being the only heterosexual living in this apartment complex. Or so it seems.”

“I think Mr. Harris is straight.”

“Because that's just what I need, to share company with the building's biggest asshole. Next to you, of course.”

Beaming, Stiles sat across from Scott and twirled a spoon between his fingers before plunking it into his own bowl of oatmeal. “Aw, that's so sweet. I swear, if you were into dudes I'd totally let you have wet dreams about me. I have standards, though.”

“Go to hell,” Scott laughed. “But seriously, have you come out yet? Because every one of those terrible lesbian movies Allison made me watch taught me that using a girlfriend to come out to the parents usually ends in wine bottles being thrown against the wall and lots of yelling.”

“And that is why I avoid the gay and lesbian section of Netflix. Nothing good comes from letting gay people tell stories. All they want to do is have coming out drama and gay bashing. Blah.” Stiles toyed with his oatmeal, but didn't eat any. Scott was shovelling it into his mouth at a rapid pace. “I came out to my dad the other day. He was pretty cool about it. Not even surprised, really.”

“He thought you were gay, didn't he?” Scott snorted, remembering his own mother dropping hints that she approved of gay people until Scott started dating Allison.

“My mom did, because of Sailor Moon. And it was only the dubbed version where the lesbians were turned into cousins!” Stiles exclaimed, accidentally flinging his spoon across the apartment and striking the wall. Oatmeal covered the floor, but Scott just continued eating. “I'll clean that later.”

“You'd better. Allison said she's stopping by after the funeral to talk to you. Something about you calling Lydia the other day. I'm just gonna assume you did something stupid. Because that's what you do whenever Lydia is involved,” Scott shrugged. He felt horrible about what happened to Lydia and how Stiles had treated her during the breakup, but she'd made it clear she wanted him to stay out of her affairs.

Scott checked his phone, and he still had fifteen minutes before Braeden was to pick him up. It was odd, because Scott had been to her house and didn't remember seeing a car. He was quite certain that Braeden had mentioned that she hated driving at least once, and she'd left after their tryst insisting that she needed the walk to cool off.

“Earth to Scott. Hello!” Stiles was waving his hands in front of Scott's face, dangerously close to smearing oatmeal on his nose.

“Dude, go rinse your hands off in the sink or use one of the rags,” Scott advised as he snapped back to the conversation he was supposed to be having.

“It's time like these I wish Allison would lift her paper towel ban,” Stiles sighed as he retracted his hands and stood. He made a point of loudly stomping to the sink. “Why do we still have to follow her rules when she's not even living here right now?”

“Because she would kill us if she found out we cheated. But hey, on the bright side, we don't have to clean up after her anymore. The slob,” Scott countered, shuddering as he remembered Allison leaving dirty dishes and clothes all over the floor and furniture.

There was a knock at the door, and Scott checked his phone again. Braeden was still ten minutes early. He shoved the last of his oatmeal in his mouth and stood up. Stiles ran over to the door, beating him by seconds.

“Hello! We already met once, but I'm Stiles. And you're Braeden... and this is your friend Cora.”

“Hey,” Scott said to the two women as he shoved his friend out of the doorway and straightened his tie. “I just finished breakfast. Let me grab my wallet and I'm good to go.”

“There is oatmeal on your wall,” Cora pointed out succinctly, and air of distaste in her voice. Scott looked over his shoulder and jerked his head, indicating that Stiles should clean his mess.

“Do you guys want to come in?” Scott offered as he stepped back and swept his hand across the entrance.

Braeden smiled and stepped across the threshold. Cora just crossed her arms and glowered. “I think I'll stay out here where the risk of tetanus is at least below forty percent.”

“Okay then,” Stiles agreed before slamming the door shut in her face.

“That was rude,” Braeden said in shock, staring at Stiles as he strolled over to the sink to retrieve a wet dishrag.

“So was she,” Stiles pointed out.

“Her brother is being buried today. Can she have some slack?” Scott reminded Stiles as he retrieved his wallet from the nightstand. He turned to Braeden. “Sorry, he was raised in a barn.”

“Stables, good sir. I was raised in a stable!” Stiles yelled at them. Then he sighed and rolled his eyes. “I'll go apologize.”

Braeden cleared her throat. “You know what, don't worry about it. Scott, can we just leave?”

Scott gave Stiles a withering glare, but got a shrug in response. Braeden grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the door. When they opened it, Cora was already gone.

“She must have gone out to the car already.”

“I didn't know you had a car,” Scott said as he closed the door behind them. Allison wouldn't be the only one yelling at Stiles after the funeral.

Braeden let go of Scott and slowed her pace. “I don't: Cora's mother is the one driving us to the funeral home, then to the cemetery. Also, I don't think I like your roommate.”

Scott's fingernails weren't long, but they still bit into his palm. “Sorry about that. He thinks he's funny when he's usually just an asshole. I'm so used to it that I barely notice until something like that happens.”

“I guess I'm the same way with Cora. I'll talk to mine if you talk to yours,” she offered as she grabbed Scott's hand.

“After the funeral?” he asked, not wanting them to be late.

“After the funeral,” she agreed.

The car was small, but dated. It looked like something from an old black and white movie. Scott knew next to nothing about cars, but he guessed it was from the 40s. It seemed to perfectly fit the bit of Talia's personality that Scott had observed.

“Good morning, Mr. McCall,” Talia Hale said pleasantly as she smiled from behind the wheel of the car. “Thank you again for doing this for my son.”

“It's my honour,” Scott insisted as he looked the car over, noting the lack of a second set of doors.

Talia opened her door and climbed out of her seat. She motioned for Scott and Braeden to climb in behind it. Cora sat in the passenger seat ignoring them.

“It's been upgraded to have a back seat, but it wasn't made for one, so I'm afraid it will be a tight squeeze.”

“It's fine, that's why I got the mini-boyfriend,” Braeden joked, causing Scott to blush. Talia just smiled and held the door open.

TW

“I thought I was meeting your dad,” Danny said as Stiles knelt in the dirt. He placed a hand against the cold stone.

“I said I was going to introduce you to my parents. I thought we'd start with my mom,” Stiles explained as his fingers traced her name. He knew she was dead and gone. Unlike Scott and Allison, Stiles was an atheist. It was one of the few things he actually had in common with Lydia. Nonetheless, he still came out to visit her grave and talk to the wind. It was a nice delusion. “Mom, this is Danny. He's my new boyfriend.”

“Hi?” Danny gave a small wave to the headstone. He was clearly uncomfortable, and it made Stiles feel bad. It had been a bad idea. It was too soon to be shoving dead relatives in Danny's face.

Stiles stood and walked to Danny, who was hanging back. “We can leave if you want. It's not like I expect you to have a full conversation with a dead woman you never met. In fact, it would be weird if you did.”

“You're fine with that?” Danny looked as apprehensive as he sounded. Stiles patted him on the shoulder and walked past him.

“Yeah. It's fine. We got that out of the way, so I think we can go now. Best to do the awkward stuff first, no?”

He received no answer, which Stiles took as agreement.

“So,” Stiles started as he searched for something to say, leading Danny out of the cemetery and to the sidewalk, “did you want to go get something to eat? I've got a twenty.”

“Um, sure. Why not?”

The small talk continued at they walked to a frozen yogurt place Danny had never been to and Stiles remembered frequenting when he was dating Lydia. He'd almost decided to continue past it to the fried chicken joint down the street, but Danny actually seemed interested in getting yogurt and Stiles felt like he still needed to make something up to Danny, even if he had been forgiven.

In fact, the frozen delight was the only thing Danny seemed to not be apathetic about. While he had a not undeserved reputation for being oblivious, Stiles could definitely read Danny like a pop-up picture book. He didn't want to be here: he didn't want to be with Stiles. It wasn't even a good show. Danny was barely going through the motions.

“So, do you want to do anything after this?” Stiles asked as he waited waited for his raspberry cone. Danny took his peach one and thanked the server. “I mean, we could go to a movie or something.”

“Nah,” Danny dismissed without even a wave before biting the top off his cone.

“So, then, what do you want to do?”

“I just... I want to go home and chill.”

“Do you mind if I chill with you?” Stiles asked quietly before taking his cone. He didn't even thank the woman before walking away.

“If you want. I guess.”

Neither one said anything else as they walked back to their apartment building.

TW

Allison wondered why it wasn't raining, or at least cold. Funerals were supposed to be sad events mirrored by the weather, but it was a day right out of the opening scenes of a Disney movie. She half-expected to see Snow White holding a concert with bluebirds acting as a chorus. Lydia's long black veil was one of the few things to fit the mood, even if it was just to hide her face.

The funeral really wasn't that big: maybe twenty people at the most. She had no idea how many of them actually knew Derek and how many were just acquaintances there to fill the seats. Lydia had explained to her on the drive over that even though the Hales were allegedly one of the founding families of Beacon Hills, they weren't sociable and never achieved the status that blue bloods did in New England. They were certainly rich enough from from what Allison gathered, which was why they were able to fool around with coffee shops and art galleries.

She wondered why Derek had tried so hard to give everyone the impression that he was poor. Was some pride thing? Or shame that he was affluent? Because she'd grown up well off when her family's business was making all kinds of money during the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, but nobody had ever bothered her about it. Well, aside from the occasional protesters outside her house, but she'd learned a long ago that those people were assholes who didn't know where the line was.

The funeral was very traditional. She'd sat in a chair, watching as the pallbearers carried the caskets on their shoulders. The only one she knew was Scott, though she recognized two of them as members of that band the woman Erica had been in. She didn't see Erica, so she wondered if they were just bodies like Scott was.

The minister was just getting ready to speak when Lydia's phone started going off. Nobody in the small crowd appreciated Rihanna interrupting the service, or Lydia's apology. She stood and ran away, phone shoved under her veil. Allison was wondering what was more important than this funeral that Lydia had insisted on attending.

She waited calmly through the rest of the service, offering a small prayer that Derek found peace in the afterlife. When the family started throwing dirt on the grave, Allison excused herself to go find Lydia. She spotted Braeden and Scott standing up by the family. They were clearly busy, so she didn't even wave farewell to them.

It was a couple of minutes before Allison found Lydia. She was sitting behind a large headstone. It was old and the name on it had been worn away by decades, possibly centuries of weather.

“You missed the burial,” Allison informed Lydia as she sat beside her. There was no reaction, so Allison nudged the woman with her shoulder. “Are you okay? What was that call about?”

Lydia spoke in shuddering breaths, but every word was crystal clear. “They caught him, Allison. They finally caught Jackson.”

“Congrats,” Allison sighed in relief. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the cool stone, a smile creeping onto her face. She was shocked, but not unpleasantly so when Lydia held her hand.

“Why did I take him back? Why did I think it would be different?” Lydia asked Allison in a voice that cracked, but refused to break into sobs. Allison wished she could see Lydia's face.

Allison took a deep breath before answering. “I want to say something pithy like 'because to err is to be human', but I can't because it's patronizing as hell. I don't even know why I do what I do, Lydia.”

“Fat load of good you are,” Lydia snorted. “Thank you. For everything, I mean. I've been a bitch and you've been amazing.”

There were many things Allison wanted to say. She wanted to tell Lydia that she enjoyed becoming her friend again, that they could stay friends. Allison wanted to tell Lydia that she enjoyed living with someone who thought oestrogen was a good thing.

“You're welcome,” Allison finally said. “Are you going to be okay? With this news, I mean.”

“I don't think I'll be okay until I see his corpse hanging from a tree,” Lydia growled. Her grip tightened around Allison's hand, but not enough to hurt. “But since that's unlikely to happen anytime soon, I'll settle for whatever it is I am actually feeling.”

“If I had to wager a guess, it's probably relief,” Allison offered kindly. She gave Lydia a supportive squeeze.

“More like that feeling you get when you finally fall asleep after three days of non-stop writing for a paper that's already overdue,” Lydia explained. She released Allison and stood, using the headstone to steady herself. “I should probably apologize to the family. The last thing I need is for my only client to fire me for taking a phone call during her brother's funeral.”

Allison stood and put a hand on Lydia's shoulder. “I'm sure they'll understand. If you just explain it, they will get it. I mean, they're waiting for them to catch whoever killed Derek, right?”

“Talia might, because she's actually fucking human, but Cora is cunt personified and I think 'Uncle Peter' might be a paedophile,” Lydia sniffed as she pulled back the veil to reveal her face to the elements. The swelling had really gone down, but discolouration and bruising lingered. “I guess that I'm gonna have to show them my game face if they're gonna buy it.”

“Do you need me to come?”

“Nah, I got this,” Lydia said with the first smile on her face that Allison had seen in a long, long time.

TW

It had been hours since Scott had arrived home. The Hales had dropped him off, and Braeden stayed in the car. Stiles hadn't come home yet, and he had started to worry because it was well past dark. His fears were assuaged when he received a text from his best friend explaining that he was staying overnight at his father's house. Stiles had mentioned something about visiting his dad.

So, it was mostly a combination of boredom and loneliness that had Scott slipping down the hall and knocking on Danny's door while wearing his pyjamas. He didn't know Danny all that well, but what he did know he liked. Danny was an upstanding guy. Well, criminal record aside, but Scott brushed that off as civil disobedience.

Scott smelled Danny before the door swung open. The taller man held the palm of his hand against the side of his head and stared at Scott for a few seconds before finally greeting him. “What's up?”

“You're drunk,” Scott noted dumbly. Then he shook his head and chucked the thought from his brain. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out, it's boring at my place right now, but you're clearly busy.”

“Nah, come on in. I found a box of Franzia that Jackson had given me as a house warming gift. Only good thing the bastard has done with his life. Apparently. There's still half of it left if you want some.”

All Scott managed to get out was “Um” before Danny reached out and grabbed Scott by the arm and pulled him into his apartment. It took half a second for Scott to orient himself. In that time frame, Danny had already slammed the door shut and was on his way over to his sink to retrieve what looked like a coffee cup. Scott just stood and watched Danny rinse it out, then wipe it clean with a paper towel.

“Sorry, I don't have proper wine glasses,” Danny told Scott as he thrust the still wet mug into the other man's hands. “I'm more of a beer guy, but it is what it is.”

“How did you drink half a box of cheap wine and not pass out?” Scott curiously followed Danny to the couch. The man was clearly drunk, but he wasn't stumbling and managed to enunciate most of his words.

“A combination of keg parties in college and low alco... low alcohol content. This would've been just water four years ago,” Danny explained as he refilled his own coffee mug. He pushed the box over to Scott. After a nod from Danny, Scott fill his own cup, but didn't drink. Allison would judge him so hard for drinking wine from a box.

“Is there any particular reason why we're getting plastered tonight?” Scott inquired as he held his wine with both hands and propped his elbows up on his knees.

“To Stiles!” Danny shouted, spittle flying from his lips and landing on the side of the box. It took everything Scott had to not wipe the surface clean with one of accent pillows on the sofa. He didn't even know Danny had accent pillows. When he thought about it, Scott realized that it was the first time he'd ever been in Danny's place.

Groaning, Scott held the wet mug to his forehead before responding. “What did he do now? I'll kill him.”

“He didn't do anything,” Danny muttered, his demeanour changing and his features hardening. “I'm the one who made the mistake.”

“Danny, should we be talking about this? I mean, if you and Stiles are having problems, I don't want to get in the middle of it.”

“Nah, you're fine, Scott. We're friends, and friends tell each other things,” Danny told him as he patted Scott on the thigh. “See, the other night when I told Stiles about Lydia, he yelled at me and threw me out, but then he apologized and I forgave him. So we're all good now.”

“Then what was the mistake?” Scott leaned back into the cushions of the sofa. Drunk people almost never lied.

Closing his eyes and taking another long sip of his wine, Danny played with it in his mouth before swallowing and answering. “I told you, I forgave him.”

“Are you saying that you didn't want to forgive Stiles? Danny, that's not good.”

With a shake of his head, Danny spilled some wine on his pants but ignored it. “Nah, Scott, I wanted to forgive him. I still do. I just can't. And I don't even know what I'm supposed to forgive him for because I'm the one who lied to him about Lydia and Allison. It just seems like ever since that Derek guy died, we've had a wall and he just now wants to take it down and I can't be arsed to care.

“I want to care, but I can't. Does that make sense?”

“Not really,” Scott answered as he finally took a drink of his wine. It tasted as cheap as it smelled, but before he'd even completed the thought he'd already drained it. He was going to need more for this conversation.

“Why can't I just find a guy who doesn't have baggage that is directly related to my baggage?” Danny whined as Scott leaned forward and filled his mug again. “Why couldn't I have met you first?”

Scott dropped his glass. Thankfully, it didn't shatter, but wine spilled all over the floor and soaked Scott's socks. He was too stunned to notice.

“Well shit,” Danny groused as he slapped his forehead. His hand trailed down the front of his face before dropping off entirely and settling in his lap. “I didn't say that. Nope.”

“You do know I'm straight. Right?” Scott asked nervously as he picked up his mug and quickly refilled it. Then he drained it again.

He was halfway through refilling it a third time when Danny finally answered.

“Yes, Scott, I know you're a hetereo... hetro... straight. Look, I just... It's nothing. Forget it.”

“Okay. Fine. Consider it forgotten,” Scott choked before draining his mug again. He was more than willing to forget that the guy dating his best friend who was also twice Scott's height had a thing for him.

“Thanks,” Danny said quietly.

They sat in silence alternating who got to drink, neither man looking at the other. After ten minutes, Scott finally spoke just to break the tension.

“So, what're you playing?” he wondered as he picked up Danny's Playstation controller. He missed being able to play games on a TV.

“Just making my way through the Mass Effect Trilogy. I had the first game on my Xbox, but that got sold when I was in prison. FemShep is the best one, you know?”

“I didn't get to play any of the games. My last console was a PS2. Besides, Allison banned TVs from the apartment ages ago. She banned a lot of things, now that I think about it.”

“And now you know why I'm gay,” Danny laughed, and Scott scoffed before smiling.

p

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone! Just wanted to let you know that I won't be uploading any chapters of this fic or any new fics in November. I'm participating in NaNoWriMo for the first time ever. :-) Come December, though, I'll be back and roaring.


	14. Chapter 14

“He did not!” Allison laughed as she tried not to spill her coffee. It was the first time she and Scott had been able to get together alone since she'd started taking care of Lydia, so they were catching each other up on things that neither wanted his new girlfriend to know about.

“I wish I were kidding, but I'm not,” Scott grumbled into his own coffee.

Allison looked around the coffee shop, just on the off chance Stiles stumbled in on their conversation. It seemed unlikely, none of her friends had been to it since Derek died. It looked the same, but it felt different. She realized that she hadn't even known the name of the place until the new barista, some guy named Matt, stared at her boobs and welcomed her to the “Cup of Hale”.

It really was a stupid name, and she wished she didn't know it.

“So, when are you and Danny throwing the engagement party? I need to know what kind of strippers to hire,” Allison said as she his her smirk behind her coffee. It still tasted the same, at least. Though, the lack of baked goods was notable.

“Go to hell,” Scott laughed. “Can you please not tell Stiles about this? I don't want to embarrass either one of them. I just needed someone to talk to.”

“And who better than your lesbian ex-girlfriend slash best friend?” Allison teased. “It'll be fine, Scott. I mean, god, we lived together after I came out and you were still in love with me. Not that I can blame you, since I'm flawless, but everything turned out okay. Stiles won't hear anything from me, but this is nowhere near that serious. It's just a drunk guy telling you you're hot. Admittedly, a really hot guy out of your league and twice your height...”

“I am not that short,” Scott interrupted, but Allison waved him down.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, we'll change the subject. Midget,” she winked before continuing. “Did you know that the Hale family is rich as all get out?”

Scott held up a finger. “First, I did not. And second, who says 'as all get out' anymore?”

“I do, Bitch,” Allison replied as she rolled her neck and snapped her fingers. Scott just stuck his tongue out at her. “Okay, so, Lydia told me that the family is filthy rich, but really low key. It's so weird.”

“Um, you came from rich stock. You didn't all gather together on the weekends to make fun of poor people?” Scott asked as he picked at a paper napkin.

“My parents were upper middle class at best, like doctors and stuff. My grandfather is the one who has all the money, and until he dies my dad is just an employee. And I won't see any of it anyway,” Allison shrugged. “But no, we didn't associate with the other rich folks in Beacon Hills. Or any of the other places I lived. We were always the new money.”

“God knows being new money is the worst thing in the world,” Scott offered as he raise his coffee cup to her. “Here is to your familial name achieving Blue Blood status is four hundred years.”

Allison laughed in his face. “You are such a dick.”

“You wouldn't want me any other way,” Scott agreed.

It was amazing how much Allison had missed the company of her best friends. Being around Lydia was getting easier, but it never felt as natural as spending time with Scott did. And she hadn't seen Stiles in ages, so she still owed him a good screaming match.

“Did the Hales tell you why Lydia ran out during the funeral? You and Braeden were kinda all up in the family stuff and I wasn't.”

She watched as Scott scratched the back of his head and his eyebrows twitched. He was clearly stalling for time until he found the right words.

“Um, sorta. Lydia kept trying to apologize and explain, but Cora was being a real bitch and yelling at her, so Braeden and I had to take her away while Lydia apologized to Talia and Peter on her own. All I caught was that Jackson was involved. Braeden and I were worried, but that's kind of something Lydia told us to stay away from. Repeatedly.”

“The police caught Jackson, and the phone call was Lydia being updated or informed or whatever the legal lingo is. It's finally over,” Allison explained with an ecstatic smile. “Well, there's still the trial and inevitable sentencing, but you know what I mean.”

“We've been here before,” Scott pointed out. Allison wanted to slap him for trying to bring her back down to reality. He wasn't wrong, though. “I mean, Lydia had him put away before, and when he got out she took him back. Allison, a lot of women take their abusers back.”

“And not all abuse is physical, Scott. I love Stiles to death, he's as much my surrogate brother as you are, but you can't deny that he was abusive to Lydia. I mean, she was just as awful, we both saw that, but he left her homeless. Of course she'd take Jackson back after the alleged good guy treated her like shit.” Allison set her coffee down and played with the fringed edge of her scarf.

“Speaking of being homeless,” Scott said, clearly ignoring Allison's diatribe against the third member of their trio, “when are you moving back in? I mean, you said Jackson has been arrested, so Lydia doesn't need you to watch after her anymore. I mean, that is the reason you gave for moving in there when Danny accidentally outed you.”

Allison sat in shocked silence. The thought of moving out hadn't occurred to her. And now that she was thinking about it, she found herself dreading it. Which was not the reaction she had expected.

“How are things with you and Braeden? The last time we talked, you were being gross and I had to hang up.”

“Yeah, right, you use my electric razor on your legs and I'm the gross one,” Scott argued with a putrid expression.

“I'll stop shaving my legs the day you stop waxing your chest,” she shot back with raised eyebrows. “At least you go to a salon now and I don't have to do it anymore.”

“You told me it was sexy!”

“I also told you I liked having sex with you, but that doesn't make it true.”

“Bitch.”

“Midget.”

They glared at each other before cracking up. A couple of the other customers in the coffee shop glared at them, but Allison pushed them out of her mind.

“But seriously, Scott, Braeden is a lucky woman and I'm happy that you're finally happy.”

“What about you? Have you been looking for Ms. Right? Or has Lydia's high maintenance ass kept you busy?” Scott wondered.

Allison shook her head in the negative. “No on both counts. Lydia's been... well, not great, but better than I expected. And I think I'm going to be happily single for another three years before I even think about dating again.”

“Whatever makes you happy. I guess.” Scott replied at as he pulled out his phone and looked at the time. “This has been fun, but I need to be early to work today. We're hazing the new med students. I'm supposed to bring the shaving cream.”

“Freaks,” Allison winked. She just sat back and watched him leave, a smile perched on her lips.

TW

There hadn't even been time for Stiles to change out of his work uniform. Danny had a hand on his arm, practically pulling him outside saying that they needed to talk.

“You're dumping me, aren't you?” Stiles said the moment they were out in the sunshine. He put his hat back on to block the sun.

Danny let Stiles go and started walking in a random direction. Wanting an answer to his question, Stiles followed.

“I am,” Danny sighed as he hung his head. His voice sounded dejected, like he wasn't happy about what he was saying. For a moment, Stiles remembered how Tyler had the same tone of voice when they broke up. “I don't want to be cliched and say that it's me, and I don't want to blame you. But it's not working. It might have, if we had a clean slate, but because of who we are and who we know it's not going to happen.”

“And you couldn't have done this in private?” Stiles wondered irritably. Even though he was pissed, he kept walking with Danny. “What was with all of that bullshit about forgiving me and working things out?”

“You think I didn't want to forgive you? I've tried, Stiles. I like you. I really like you. But it is what it is. We mix for a time, but when things settle we separate. Like salad dressing, for lack of a better term. And I'm not the kind of person who needs to constantly shake things up.”

“I literally have no idea what that terrible metaphor was supposed to tell me.” A car honked at Stiles and he stepped away from the curb, bumping into Danny. “All I got out of it is that you think I'm a horrible person.”

There was an awkward silence. For a few seconds, Stiles was afraid that Danny wouldn't challenge his claim. It wasn't like Stiles didn't already know how people felt about him. Whenever he had to make his meds stretch until he could afford a refill, even Scott and Allison had trouble handling him.

“You aren't horrible, Stiles,” Danny finally sighed as he stopped and reached out. Stiles shrugged off his touch. If he was being dumped, he sure as hell wasn't going to let the guy doing it comfort him. “What you are is inconsiderate. You don't think about the consequences of what you do or say.”

“Hello, remember when I told you about my ADHD? My brain literally doesn't work the same as yours, Danny. Sometimes I can't keep up with what I'm saying or doing. I mean, my god, the pills only do so much. And this isn't an excuse. This is me being honest with you. You think I would be this much of an asshole if I could help it? Do you think I wouldn't like to have a good job that paid well?”

Danny stood and stared at Stiles in shock, his mouth hanging open. Stiles opened his mouth to rip into him further, but stopped when he realized that Danny actually didn't know that.

“I thought it just meant you were a little hyper from time to time,” the other man said stupidly, finally finding his voice. “My god, I am so sorry.”

“That's the thing, Danny. It's why the only friends I have are the ones who live with me. People don't get it, and it usually ends with them being overwhelmed and leaving. Like you're doing now. But you're different. You tried, and they didn't. And yeah, it would be easy to blame everything on my condition, but it would be wrong. But you still tried.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Danny closed his eyes and began tapping his feet. “Why didn't Scott tell me any of this?”

“What does my roommate have to do with you dumping me?” Stiles demanded as he yelled in Danny's face. A woman walking her dog picked up the pace as she passed them.

“He was just being a friend,” Danny said evasively as he looked away from Stiles and scratched the back of his head. “This isn't about him, it's about us.”

“The fuck it is!” Stiles shouted, blocking out the people watching from their windows. He wasn't going to let Danny off the hook that easily. “I apologized to you, even though all I technically did was be a little too emotional around you, and then you tell me that my best friend told you to break up with me? That is some bullshit because I know Scott and he'd never do that.”

“And he didn't, Stiles. He told me to be honest with you, and that's what I'm doing!” Danny yelled back, though not as loudly as Stiles. “I was hoping to keep this civil, because we're neighbours, but you don't want to do that. You just want to make a production out of it so that I'm the bad guy who treated you horribly and you're the victim. It's exactly what you did to Lydia.”

Stiles grabbed Danny by the coat and pulled him close. “Who the hell do you think you are to throw her in my face when you stood by and let Jackson beat the shit out the bitch?”

Then Stiles let go of Danny and stared at his hands, silently mouthing the words he'd just spoken. He stepped back, away from Danny and into the soft grass of some stranger's lawn.

“Stiles?” Danny's voice wasn't angry, though Stiles knew he had every right to be.

“I'm no better than he is.” Stiles' voice shook, as did his hands. He looked up at Danny, his vision blurred by the hot tears threatening to fall. “My god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I would never.”

Danny's hands locked onto Stiles' shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about? Do you need me to call someone? Does ADHD come with attacks or something?”

“No.” Stiles tried to calm himself, but his heart was beating too loudly in his ears. “Danny, I'm sorry. I'd never hit you. I never hit Lydia, so of course I'd never hit you. You're one of the good ones, and she isn't. But that doesn't matter because he never should have hit her and I never should have grabbed you. I'm sorry!”

“It's okay,” Danny assured Stiles. Danny looked around and let go of Stiles' shoulder and one hand latched onto his elbow. “You were right, we should've done this in private. Lets go back to our building.”

“You're being nice to me,” Stiles said numbly.

“And you're freaking out,” Danny replied, his own voice failing to hide his stress. “Come on. We'll get you home and finish this later. Maybe.”

“I love you,” Stiles told Danny, stopping the man in his tracks.

“Do you even know what you're saying?”

“I know that I'm a terrible person, and you're not, but not even though two minutes ago I was screaming in your face and right now all you're worried about is me. And I love you. I fucking love you.”

“Stiles...” was all Danny could manage.

“I know, you don't want me. I don't blame you. We've known each other three weeks? Maybe? But I love you, and I don't care if I sound like a crazy person saying it.”

“Well, I wouldn't use that word, but it is apt. You don't know me well enough to love me, Stiles. And even if you love me, I don't love you.”

“That's fine. You don't have to love me. I mean, I would be shocked if you did. I just wanted you to know.”

TW

Scott was surprised when Braeden showed up at the hospital with a bag from McDonalds, but his boss went ahead and let him take his lunch break early since the ER was running slower than usual.

“You eat fast food?” Scott asked as they sat in the cafeteria. It just seemed so unlike Braeden.

“Almost never, but what with the funeral the other day I want comfort food. And there are few things as comforting as grease and trans fats. I didn't know what you wanted, so I got you a cheeseburger and fries.” Braeden pulled out a soggy wrapper and handed it to Scott. Then she lifted his fries out of the bag, but kept them to herself.

“I thought you said those were for me.”

She smiled at him and bit into a fry. “I did. But I ate my fries on the bus and I'm still hungry. So you can deal, Scrubs.”

“And my drink?”

“This was the dollar menu. Besides, soda is horrible for you,” Braeden rationalized. “Just be glad I played this much into the doting girlfriend thing. I almost never spend my money on other people.”

“Then I'll choose to feel flattered instead of robbed,” Scott laughed as he unwrapped his burger. It was already cold, and smelled horrid, but he smiled at Braeden and he bit into it anyway.

“It's probably best that you do,” Braeden agreed simply.

Scott sat his partially eaten burger down on the wrapper. “So, I was hanging out with Allison this morning. She mentioned something interesting.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Apparently, you're part Mexican. Like me. We're, like, sympatico.”

“I'm a whole bunch of things, Scrubs. It's why I tick the 'other' box on the government forms. Why does it matter if I'm part Mexican anyway?” Braeden asked, her eyes boring into his. “You told me you loved me before you even knew that.”

“I just thought it was cool,” Scott shared awkwardly as he looked down at his food.

Braeden reached across the table and grabbed one of Scott's hands. “I'm messing with you, Scott. I don't mind talking about it, though I wish you'd heard it from me instead of Allison. Because then we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

“But if your mom or dad is Mexican,why can't you speak Spanish?” Scott wondered idly. He didn't know why he cared.

“My dad is only half-Mexican, and his parents were first generation immigrants. Back in the day, they didn't teach their kids anything but English. It was part of the acclimation process. Things are different now. But my momma is Creole and that's why I learned French.”

“I know nothing about being Creole.”

“I'll have to change that.” Braeden let go of Scott and sat back, nervously playing with a french fry. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“It's nothing. I'm just hoping for some good news,” Braeden said as she looked at her own hands. She looked up and Scott, and he must have had a look on his face that betrayed his worry. “I'm not sick or anything. It's kinda work-related.”

“One of the animals you take care of sick?”

She shook her head and sighed. “You know what, I'll tell you when it happens, but until then just trust me when I saw that it's a good thing.”

“Fine,” Scott answered as he picked his burger back up. “But now you have me all worried and stuff.”

“It's fine,” Braeden assured him as she held out her fries. “Peace offering?”

“Deal,” Scott agreed as he reached forward and snagged a small bunch of fries.

TW

“We need to talk,” Allison said the moment Stiles walked in the door. “We've needed to talk.”

“That's the last thing I want to do,” Stiles sighed. She didn't really care. The look on Stiles face showed that he knew. “Danny broke up with me today.”

“I'm sorry about that,” Allison wanted to flinch at the cold tone in her voice, but she pushed through. She'd put this off long enough. Even though it made her feel like a total bitch, she had to kick him while he was down. It was what they did for each other. It was how much she loved him. “It doesn't change anything, though. Stiles, we need to talk about Lydia.”

Stiles slammed the door shut and slammed the back of his head against the wood. Cringing, Allison relented for a second.

“How many times do I have to say it? I don't give a fuck about that bitch.”

“And that is what we're talking about,” Allison scolded as she stood and walked to the door. She reached around Stiles and locked it. “Scott is at work, and I don't need any interruptions.”

“You gonna beat me?” Stiles shot as he pushed past Allison. When he reached the midway point to the bed, he turned around and held his hands out. “Well, come on. Have at it.”

“Stop being a little piece of shit and listen to reason for once in your life. Do you know how sick and tired I am of being the good friend who makes excuses for you and overlooks your faults? Now I'm going to be the best friend who tells you that you're a horrible person and you need to change,” Allison yelled as she kicked back at the door.

“You and everyone else,” Stiles muttered as he stuck a hand out to Allison and walked over to the fridge. He ran a commentary of his day as he poured himself a glass of almond milk. “Not only did my day at work suck ass, but did I mention that I was just dumped?”

“Good for Danny,” Allison shot as she crossed her arms. “You didn't deserve him.”

“You really are trying to be my best friend, aren't you? I can feel the love,” Stiles spat venomously before drinking his milk.

Allison ran a hand through her hair and tried to calm herself. “I'm doing this because I love you, Stiles. You aren't a good person, and it's my fault for not saying something sooner. I think I was in denial until I found out what you did to Lydia.”

“What I did to Lydia? You're acting like I did something terrible, and all I did was break up with her. It's not my fault she decided that she found getting a black eye a turn-on.”

“That's exactly what I'm talking about! That, right there. You are cracking jokes about a woman who had the shit beat out of her,” Allison screamed as she got in Stiles face. For a fraction of a second, she saw fear in his eyes and backed down. She had to remember not to become the monster she fought. “I'm not saying you have to like her, Stiles. You don't have to like anybody. What you do need to do is be sympathetic.”

“Why does that whore deserve my sympathy? I seem to recall that she can give as good as she gets.”

“Because she's spent her entire life fighting against people like you and Jackson. Did you ever talk to her when we all lived here?”

“You know I did. You know everything that happened here.”

Feeling that she wasn't getting through, Allison scratched at every surface of her mind for a new tactic. Why couldn't she make Stiles see what she did? “Why did Danny break up with you?”

“He said I was inconsiderate.” Stiles' voice grew low and dangerous. Allison knew she was on thin ice, but she also heard the chink in his armour. She knew she could do it.

Reinvigorated, Allison pulled Stiles into a hug. She held him close and ran her hand along the back of his neck. His stance was stiff as a board. Pulling back, Allison cupped her face in her hands and stood on the tips of her toes to kiss his forehead.

“Stiles, you're passionate and impulsive and I love that about you. But Danny wasn't wrong. We've all been too afraid to call you out for your behaviour. Hell, I'll even admit that it's amused me. But we need to tell you the truth. I can't protect you anymore.”

She brushed the tears from her eyes and sniffed, trying to smile through it.

“The reason you don't have any other friends is because you're not likable. It's the reason you and Lydia fought all the time. I know, it was toxic and you were both at fault, but you're the one who wouldn't let it go. Yes, she regressed, but you stayed in the same place. You and Danny imploded. You and that Tyler guy ended horribly from what I've been told. You and Derek never even got started.”

“You think I don't know this?” Stiles' voice cracked as he questioned her, but his eyes stayed dry.

“I know you know this, Stiles. But knowing it means nothing if you don't try to change it.”

“I was going to change. For Danny. But he didn't even give me a week,” he argued as he pointed at the door. “What is the point in even trying if I'm just going to be dismissed?”

Allison shook her head. “You need to change for you, Stiles. Not for me. Not for Danny. And not everyone is going to care. Some may even try to sabotage you. But I'll be here. I'll love you. Even if you fail. But what I won't do is lie to you anymore.”

“Am I still allowed to make fun of ugly people trying to take selfies in the middle of the street?”

“I'll be right there with you, laughing behind their backs. We just can't do it to their faces anymore.”

“Little steps, huh?” Stiles laughed as he hugged Allison.

“On a big, big journey.”

He was saying all of the right things. Allison knew this and she returned Stiles' embrace. She just hoped that he meant them.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. NaNoWriMo is harder than I thought and I've already washed out. Blah. So here, have some more fiction of hipsters either being awful or weird. And please, do let me know what you think of it!

It was supposed to be a symbolic act of liberation for Stiles. He was free from Danny. The situation called for doing something drastic. In reality, it was a mess.

“So, um, Erica, right?” Stiles asked the naked woman lying beside him in his bed. He'd needed to go to another meeting. Venting has seemed like a good idea, but when it came to it he just passed yet again. And after it ended, Stiles and Erica chatted again. And even though it was a terrible idea, and Stiles thought it was also against the rules, he'd asked her out.

She accepted with a smile and they spent the night getting hammered because, hey, they weren't the alcoholics. It was a fun release of steam. Nobody got hurt.

“I believe so,” she teased as she rolled over and stroked Stiles' chest with the back of her hand. She kissed his shoulder, then his neck, making her way to his lips. He wrapped his arms around her. They'd already had sex once, and he wasn't up to it again, but post-coital making out was always fun.

It helped that he was still a little drunk, so a hangover hadn't had time to develop.

“I thought you said you had roommates,” Erica mentioned before pulling Stiles' hand on the small of her back. Then she licked his neck.

“I do, but I put out the Hello Kitty door sign, so they know to make themselves scarce,” Stiles informed her before letting her go and climbing out of the bed. Erica slapped his naked ass as he fished around the clothes strewn across the floor. He surfaced with a pair of boxers and a dirty grin. As he pulled them on, he asked if she were hungry. “I can make something. Salad, cereal, whatever.”

Erica got out of the bed herself, putting on her underwear before slipping on a bra. She turned her back to Stiles and flexed her shoulders. “Do you mind?”

He nipped at her neck as he fastened her bra in place. “So, are you hungry?”

Erica turned around, her hair brushing across Stiles' face. She threw her arms around his neck, her breasts pushing against his bare chest. “Of course I am. I just had one hell of a workout. Can you make grilled cheese?”

“If my roommate bought the groceries like he was supposed to. But it's gonna be on whole wheat bread with colby-jack cheese and organic butter if he did,” Stiles whispered in her ear.

“Organic butter is so fucking sexy,” Erica whispered back in a sultry voice before snorting. It made Stiles laugh.

They broke apart, Erica giving Stiles' butt one last squeeze before he walked over to the kitchenette. Erica pulled her phone out of her pants, then dropped them back on the floor.

Stiles was in his fridge when he heard the “click” of a camera, turning around to see Erica holding her phone horizontally.

“Hot,” she told him while sitting at the kitchen table. “You mind if I put your sexy ass on Instagram?”

“Yes, I do,” Stiles said as he reached back into the fridge. “And I lied. It's baby swiss. Because Scott can't be arsed to make a proper list.”

“That's fine,” Erica sighed, setting her phone on the table. “This is gonna make meetings weird.”

“No it won't, we can just go on different nights. Don't they have two meetings a week?” Stiles pulled ingredients from the fridge and set them on the counter. “We could still do this, or avoid each other. Whatever.”

“They do. I go to both. But I'm fine with doing this,” Erica agreed as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“I think there's coffee. And we always have almond milk. Help yourself. Glasses are in the cupboard. Most of them are actually jars, but it is what it is. How many do you want?”

Erica padded over to the cupboards. She stood on the tips of her toes and reached up to grab a random mason jar. “I'll take three. A girl needs to eat.”

“Nice,” Stiles said as he bobbed his head and grinned at Erica's backside. “So, do you want to actually go on a date sometime or is this just a really, really good one night stand?”

“We can try a date. How is tomorrow?” Erica asked as she brushed by Stiles, running her hand along his back as she past him.

“Can't. Work. Wednesday?” Stiles crooked his head to watch Erica. She saw him and wiggled suggestively while pulling the almond milk from the fridge.

“Plain? I'll try it.” She made a face that Stiles couldn't read as she poured it.

“Scott bought the plain again? Ugh. This is why Allison never let him do the shopping.” Stiles rolled his eyes as he began buttering the bread.

“Did you say your other roommate is named Allison?” Erica sat her cup and the carton on the counter. “Do you guys hang out at Cup of Hale?”

Stiles stopped buttering and turned to look at Erica. “Why?”

“Do you have a picture of Allison?”

“Do you know Allison?” Stiles tilted his head and looked at Erica suspiciously. “Do you have a jazz band?”

“Jazz trio.” Erica said quietly. “Oh my god, your roommate is that chick? I have the worst luck in the world. My god. This is so bizarre.”

“Seriously,” Stiles agreed before bursting into laughter. Erica just stared at him. “Sorry, I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing because I don't know what to say. But still, her loss is my gain.”

“The fucking ladies thing doesn't bother you?” Erica inquired curiously.

“Only if it bothers you that I fuck guys,” Stiles countered as he slowly resumed buttering the bread.

“So hot,” Erica commented with a dreamy voice. “If I find out we're fucking the same guys, though...”

“My guys are all gay,” Stiles smiled, trying to look at Erica and not his doorway. “Were, anyway. I don't have guys anymore.”

“You're my first guy in awhile, too,” Erica put the carton of milk back in the fridge.

TW

“Thanks for letting me stay here last night,” Scott told Danny over cereal and cartoons on Netflix. “I know things are weird right now, but at least we can still be friends.”

Danny looked uncomfortable. This was fine with Scott, who still remembered the night they drank crappy boxed wine. At least he wasn't the only one feeling awkward.

“Allison is moving back in soon. Do you think you can be our U-Haul again?” Scott asked, more out of a need to not let the silence go on too long than actually needing Danny's help.

“Sure. I guess. But if things with Stiles get weird, can you get him to leave or something? He's your best friend and stuff, but he's been really unstable since Derek died. I mean, he freaked when we broke up. Big time.”

Scott sighed. He felt bad for Stiles because being dumped sucked, and knew that Danny couldn't articulate just why he dumped Stiles, but Stiles never had a relationship end amicably. The fight with Allison, which he heard about from both roommates with wildly differing accounts, was evidence of that.

“Can we not talk about you and Stiles? Just for a little while. Eggshells and all that. What's new with you?”

“Not much. Oh, I have a freelance thing where I'm testing the alpha release of some Android port of an iPhone app, but it's not a very good app on either platform but it pays. And I need the money.”

“Everyone needs money,” Scott added in agreement. His peanut butter puffs weren't holding his attention, so he just hurriedly downed them.

“You can get more if you want,” Danny said as he shrank away from Scott, who was slurping the leftover milk from his bowl.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Scott then wiped that on his pant leg. “Nah, I just didn't want it getting soggy. I'm good, but thanks.”

“You don't have to thank me all the time, Scott. We're friends. It's what we do,” Danny pointed out. He sat his bowl on the coffee table and took the empty one from Scott's hands. “Not that I'm trying to rush you out of here, but any idea when Stiles and his... Do you know when you can go home?”

Scott wished he hadn't explained to Danny the night before what the Hello Kitty door sign meant. Everything about Danny and Stiles was awkward as hell from the beginning, but he'd hoped that it would work out. Danny was good for Stiles. Then again, after how things went with Lydia, pretty much anyone would look good by comparison.

“Are you going to Jackson's trial?” Scott wondered when Danny returned from putting Scott's used bowl in the sink. “I talked to Allison and I guess Lydia is. She went to the last one, and she is the victim, so I guess it only makes sense.”

“Isn't she required to be at the trial? Face the accuser type of thing?” Danny asked Scott.

“I don't know. You're the one with criminal experience. No offence.”

Danny laughed and slapped Scott on the knee. When Scott looked at his hand, Danny retracted it. “Yeah, um, no offence taken. But I had the US gov't as a victim, or whatever, and my lawyer got me to plea bargain so I forfeited the trial thing. Really, all I remember is the sentencing.”

They let the conversation die there. Scott excused himself and started to gather up the stuff he'd had with him the night before.

“You know, you can hang out here any time you want. Well, as long as I'm here, anyway,” Danny reminded Scott. He waited until Scott had everything bundled in his arms, then moved to open the door for him.

“Yeah, I know,” Scott replied without looking at Danny. He didn't want it to be weird, and he actually was flattered that Danny was into him, but there would always be that weirdness between them. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Danny assured Scott. “Hey, you said something last night about Allison moving back? If you still a U-Haul, I'm available.”

“Yeah, sure,” Scott answered. “I'll talk to Allison about it. Maybe we'll all have a big group dinner thing first. You know: me, you, Lydia, Allison. Stiles if that isn't weird and he behaves. Maybe Braeden, if she isn't busy. I think you met her at the art show.”

“Was she the black one? I met her during the setup. She kept trying to get her friend Cora, the photographer, to stop yelling at me and Jackson. She seemed nice,” Danny told Scott as he looked at his shoes. Then he looked up. “Look, about the other night...”

Before he could continue, they were interrupted by the sound of a door opening and a woman yelling excitedly. Scott turned his head and saw the woman coming out of his apartment. Her clothes were dishevelled and her wet hair plastered to her head. She reached into the doorway and pulled Stiles out into the hallway.

Scott groaned when he saw that Stiles was wearing nothing but his boxers. The woman pulled Stiles into a very handsy kiss, and he actually had to look away when he hand slipped past Stiles' waistband.

“Um,” Scott started to say, but Danny had gone pale. He didn't even look at Scott before reeling himself back into his apartment and closing the door.

When he looked back at the other two hallway occupants, the woman had her hands on Stiles' chest and her tongue remained in his mouth. Scott remained standing away trying to not watch.

When they finally finished, and the woman readjusted her breasts, she told Stiles to call her and then strutted away. Her eyes appreciably ran up and down Scott as she passed him.

“Alright, get inside and get some clothes on,” Scott ordered when the woman was out of the building. Since his hands were full, he playfully kicked Stiles' backside.

“Careful, it's sore!” Stiles laughed.

“I don't even wanna know,” Scott replied, pointedly not looking at his roommate. He threw his stuff on the floor and closed the door. “Are you gonna call her?”

“Probably,” Stiles nodded. Then his tone changed and he sat on the sofa. “You were hanging out with Danny.”

“You didn't tell me you were having someone over, and I didn't have the cab fare to go to my mom's,” Scott explained, sitting beside Stiles. It was too early in the day for a screaming match. “He was just being a friend and let me sleep on his couch.”

Face lighting up, Stiles changed the subject. “Did you her? Damn!”

“Yeah, she was great, with the boobs and the face. She's also the violinist for The Betas,” Scott answered with a shrug. He had recognized her, but was more focused on the fact that she was with Stiles. “So, booty call or rebound?”

“I haven't decided. She's cool, though. Like, a lot cooler than me. She socializes and shit. Nobody in my life has been social like that since Lydia. This girl, though, she isn't a cunt about it like Lydia. Don't tell Allison I said that.

“My lips are sealed,” Scott promised. He then locked them with an imaginary key.

Stiles snorted. “Better be. Anyway, like I was saying, Erica actually knows people. Our bartender last night knew her by name.”

“Didn't you go to a meeting last night? And then to a bar immediately after to pick up Erica?” Scott asked for the sake of clarification. He's been worried when Stiles told him he was going to meetings again, something he hadn't done in years, Scott was worried. Stiles' mental health was already shaky on the best of days. He'd hoped it would be a positive influence, especially after how things went down with Derek and Danny.

“Actually, we met at the meeting and hung out after. It was her idea to go to the bar. She's scoping new places for her band. And we took a cab home, Dad.”

Scott groaned and put a hand on Stiles' shoulder. “Are you telling me that you drank last night?”

“That's what you do at bars,” Stiles reasoned.

Scott couldn't help but yell. “You're not supposed to drink! You can't mix alcohol with your meds, Stiles. Don't you know or even care how dangerous it is? My god.”

“I'm fine. Can you leave nurse mode and go back to best friend mode?” Stiles dismissed with a flick of his wrist. “And before you yell at me about sleeping with people from group, I'm gonna start going to a different one. Happy now?”

“Not in the least. Stiles, seriously, promise me that you aren't going to drink anymore. I've seen people on your meds in the ER countless times. I just don't want anyone to get hurt.”

“Including your new buddy Danny?” The icy edge to Stiles' words ruffled Scott more than he wanted to admit. It was like they had sliced into him, deflating his outrage. “He dumped me, Scott. How about some loyalty? I remember being there for you when you and Allison went belly up.”

“I'm here for you, Stiles. Always. But my situation with Allison was different from yours,” Scott pointed out. “Allison and I weren't fighting, so there was no sides to take. And I am on your side. I just don't want you and Danny to have the same post-breakup relationship that you have with Lydia.”

“I like my post-breakup relationship with Lydia: she gets to insult my manhood and I get to call her every offensive name I can think up. It works for us,” Stiles countered with half of a grin. “Not everyone needs to be you and Allison, Scott. Surely you know that most exes don't get along.”

“And most exes don't live down the hall from each other. Listen, I'm sorry you and Danny broke up. It sucks, because I was rooting for you guys to work out, but he's still being a really good guy about it.”

“And I'm not?” Stiles scoffed. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Is it that hard to expect my best friend to have some fucking sympathy for me? I mean, I already had Allison tell me that Danny was too good for me.”

Scott put his arm around Stiles' shoulder, not even caring that he hadn't bathed since the morning prior. “Allison was wrong. You are good enough for Danny. And Erica. Whoever you end up with. But you're being self-destructive over a guy you dated for a few weeks. You made choices last night that scare me.”

“Not the medication thing again!” Stiles whined, putting his face in his hand.

“Yes, the medication thing again. I need you to promise me that you won't drink anymore,” Scott urged, giving Stiles a gentle shake.

“Can't I just go off my meds instead?”

“Now is the worst time for you to go off your meds,” Scott argued. He tried not to say anything roughly. He knew that his best friend, his surrogate brother, was far more fragile than he let on.

Stiles sighed, a broken shuddering breath escaping from his lungs. He leaned against Scott, he on his shoulder. “I didn't tell Allison. She was yelling at me and I was yelling at her and I forgot for awhile, but I told Danny I loved him. It was right after he dumped me, too.”

“How could you love him? You haven't known him that long,” Scott asked as he pressed his cheek to the top of Stiles' head.

“Don't you love Braeden? I met Danny the same night you met her,” Stiles pointed out. And Scott didn't have a rebuttal to that.

“Touche.”

“If he offered to take me back, I'd probably go,” Stiles told Scott. “God, I sound like one of those stupid bitches from your mom's soap operas.”

“At least it's not my abuela's novellas,” Scott teased. “What did Danny say?”

“That he doesn't love me.”

“Ouch.” Scott actually winced. “Are you okay?”

“It was days ago. I'm fine. Besides, I didn't mean it. Well, I did, but I didn't mean to tell him. It just kind of happened. And can you see why I don't want anything to do with him?” Stiles sniffed and Scott pulled a tissue out of the pocket of his scrubs. He offered it to Stiles without a word. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Scott assured him. “Did Danny tell you why he was breaking up with you?”

“He couldn't handle it. This. All of it,” Stiles said as he waved the hand holding the tissue all over himself. “He didn't know what ADHD meant. He thought I was just hyper from time to time. He called me inconsiderate.”

Scott ran a hand through Stiles' hair comfortingly. “You can be, but I know you don't do it intentionally. Well, except where Lydia is concerned. But that's neither here nor there.”

“I hate that bitch,” Stiles told Scott before wiping his nose with the tissue.

“Believe me, I know. But Danny isn't Lydia, Stiles. Just try to be civil around him. Please? I know it hurts. Trust me, I've been there. But it'll be okay.”

“I don't want to be civil,” Stiles complained as he snuggled up against Scott.

He really needed to shower and get something to eat that wasn't sugar-laden cereal, but Scott just sat on the couch with his best friend.

TW

Lydia propped her feet on Allison's legs and wiggled her toes, as if willing them to dry faster. Allison just rolled her eyes.

“What would you do if I asked you to stay longer?” Lydia wondered as she inspected her fingernails to see if they also needed a touch up. Likely deciding that they were passable, she lowered her hand and concentrated on Allison's face.

“That depends. Are you asking me to stay longer?” Allison played with the scarf hanging around her neck. “I can if you want me to. I'll just call Scott and put it off. Did you want me to stay until after the trial?”

Shaking her head, Lydia picked up a brush from her nightstand and started running it through her hair. “Nah, I was just curious. I kinda missed having a roommate. Someone I could talk to when I had downtime. Someone I could burn Jackson's shit with.”

“Because that's what I do,” Allison laughed. Lydia smacked her arm and pointed at her toes being jostled.

“But yeah, no, I don't need you to stay. This is all hypothetical,” Lydia reinforced as she switched to brushing the other side of her head. “It's just talk.”

“We can still hang out,” Allison offered, making note of the smile that started to form on Lydia's face before she quashed it.

“That would be... adequate. Standing girl's night out or just whenever we have free time? Because I go back to work soon and the former would be so much easier to schedule.” Lydia tried to look aloof, but Allison saw right through it. She opted not to point it out. Talking with Lydia was like swimming with snakes.

“We can do a standing girl's night out. I guess. Whatever works for me. You know I don't have a life,” Allison shrugged as she looked at her lap. Lydia's toes were probably already dry and she just didn't want to give up a footrest.

Biting her lip, Lydia became uncharacteristically nervous. Allison could sense the dread coming from her friend.

“Are you okay?”

“There was something I didn't tell you. Something they found when I was in the hospital. Either Scott didn't see it on my chart, or he's actually obeying the confidentiality laws. He would've told you otherwise,” Lydia said slowly, clearly gauging Allison's reaction. Then, before Allison could break in, Lydia sighed and continued. “I'm pregnant.”

“You're pregnant. Is this why you wanted to know if I'd stay? You need someone to help you with pregnancy stuff?” Allison asked, massaging Lydia's calf because she didn't no what else to say.

“This thing in me is half Jackson, Allison. And even if it weren't, it's still half me. And I know enough about me to know I'd be a terrible parent. I'm having it terminated next week.”

“If that's what you want, I'll support you,” Allison offered, trying to process what she had just been told. Lydia was being very matter-of-fact about it, like she'd rehearsed every word. “Do you want me to be your emergency contact person?”

“Yeah. Please. I don't have many friends, and I'm glad that we reconnected. I wish it had been under better circumstances, and that I hadn't been as horrible of a cunt, but I am who I am.”

“I wasn't always the most pleasant person to you, either. And in case I didn't already, sorry about being such a bitch after what Stiles did.”

“Consider yourself forgiven,” Lydia laughed, laying her hand on top of Allison's. “Anyway, now that we're, like, besties or whatever, can I ask you a favour?”

“Depends,” Allison smirked, fluffing her hair with her free hand. “What do you want?”

Lydia sighed again, but didn't look scared. “Can you ask Danny to take me to my appointment next week? Because Beacon Hill sucks ass, the nearest clinic is a two hour drive away, and I am not paying for a cab. You wanna come?”

“If you want me there, I'll make it work. And I'll talk to Danny. He and Stiles broke up, so I don't know how he'll feel about me, but I'm sure he'll do it for you.”

Eyes alight, Lydia pumped her fists above her head. “Forgive me for being a bitch, but who dumped who? Give me the details.”

“I feel uncomfortable discussing Stiles with you. For obvious reasons,” Allison pointed out. Disappointed, Lydia huffed but didn't push it.

“Fine, I'll just grill Danny later while you're at work. Do you want any help boxing your stuff up?”

“How do you change subjects so quickly?” Allison laughed, pushing Lydia's feet off her lap and standing up. She brushed her skirt clean and did a small twirl before jumping away.

“Freak,” Lydia teased. This was the Lydia that Allison had never gotten to know. She and Stiles had been miserable together, and everyone else was miserable by association. “You know, I think I'll have to set you up with my friend Caitlin. She's a total nature, granola hippie type of girl, but that might be your type. I mean, you were with Scott for years, so maybe some who is actually rugged and a bit butch might be a nice change of pace.”

“Is it possible for you to go one day without insulting either of my roommates?” Allison asked, far too used to Lydia to even bother with getting mad.

The redhead thoughtfully stroked her chin. “I don't think so. They make it too easy. At least I'm not busting your nonexistent balls anymore. Learn to accept small mercies, Argent.”

TW

It was a bad idea. A lot of the ideas Stiles had were bad, and he even knew some of them were but did them anyway. This was a case of the latter.

The door swung open and Danny looked unhappy. He stared at Stiles for a few seconds, working his mouth before he spoke. “What is it, Stiles?”

“I want to talk about Scott,” Stiles said. Scott would kill him when he found out. For some reason, Scott was a lot more sensitive to Stiles' plight concerning Danny than he had been any of the other people Stiles had been involved with. Not even the Lydia implosion seemed to have this much effect on him.

“What about him? All he did was sleep on my couch last night. That's all,” Danny insisted rather heavily.

Stiles raised his eyebrows in confusion. “Okay? Look, he wants to stay friends with you, and I'm trying to be fine with that. Trying.”

“Is there a point to this?” Danny asked, looking more and more uncomfortable with each passing second. “Listen, if you are having problems with Scott and me hanging out, just say it to him. I'm not gonna stop because I actually like the guy.”

“Yeah, unlike me, who you can't stand,” Stiles retorted angrily. Danny started to reply, but Stiles held up a hand. “Look, whatever, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“Why don't you just come in? I'll get you a beer or something,” Danny offered via a sigh.

Silently accepting, Stiles stepped into Danny's apartment. It didn't look any different. A few more boxes were unpacked, but there were still more shoved against walls than not.

“Listen, Scott isn't the only reason I came over. He's actually asleep right now and doesn't know know I'm here,” Stiles confessed as he took the brown bottle from Danny. It was cold to the touch, and condensation was already starting to form on the bottle. “I want to know why you broke up with me.”

“I already told you why,” Danny groaned, standing behind the sofa.

“You didn't. You gave me some bullshit line and I want to know what it is I did that made you say it. I just... what was the breaking point? What changed between when I begged you to forgive me for the Derek stuff and when you dumped me? I keep trying to figure it out, but I can't. Because we were good together. We weren't, like, soulmates or anything, but we were good. And I cannot figure out what changed.”

Sighing for a third time, a sound that Stiles was beginning to hate, Danny wrapped his arms around Stiles from behind and rested his chin on the top of Stiles' head.

“We were too much too fast, and I got scared. And I didn't know how to tell you. So instead of trying to slow it down, I decided it was best if we went cold turkey. It wasn't healthy.”

“The fuck do you know about healthy? Look at this!” Stiles pointed to Danny's hands, which were resting on his chest. “Everyone says they want a healthy relationship, but they also say they want the whirlwind romance. You know what I want? You. Even though I kinda treated you like crap, and you definitely treated me like shit, I still want you. I'd take you back without question. Is that healthy? Hell no. But it's better than being alone.”

“Except you aren't alone.” Danny tightened his grip on Stiles, and his voice was just a little more strained. “I saw you with her. You looked like you were moving on fine.”

“You don't get to be jealous of my rebound.” The tone of Stiles voice was frosty enough to make both men shudder. “Sorry, I'm trying to be civil, and that wasn't. This is harder than I wanted it to be. The mixed signals definitely aren't helping.”

Danny changed his position so that his cheek was pressed against Stiles'. It was unfair, what Danny was doing, but Stiles closed his eyes and savoured the contact. He wanted to reach up and feel Danny with his fingers. He wanted to turn his head and press their lips together. What did was sit there and enjoy the bone being thrown his way.

“I'm not meaning to send mixed messages. I still care about you, Stiles. I never stopped. But it doesn't change anything. We need to stop.”

“No, we don't.” Stiles opened his eyes and turned his head. His nose pressed against Danny's cheek, so he reached up and turned the other man's head until they were facing each other. Both adjusted their bodies to suit the new angles. “Danny, if you still want me, and I still want you, then why the hell aren't we together?”

“Because it's not enough,” Danny breathed against his lips. “We haven't been in a good place since our first date.”

Stiles kissed Danny, leaning into him. His hands moved from Danny's face, one stopping at his neck and the other continuing down to rest on his shoulder. They broke away both didn't look away.

“Fuck a good place. I've been in good places, and I've been in shitty places. But I want to be in this place. Here, with you, being awful and codependent and a million other things that you think is wrong and I think is just another day.”

It was obvious that Danny's defences were breaking down, and Stiles didn't care why they'd been built. He kissed Danny again, and this time Danny kissed back. Danny pushed Stiles into the sofa. With ease, he stretched one of his long legs over the back of the couch and straddled it for better support. Stiles grabbed his shirt and pulled him the rest of the way over. He was flat on his back, and Danny was crushing him beneath his weight, but he didn't care.

“Please,” was all Stiles said when they came up for air.

Looking scared, Danny started to climb off until Stiles grabbed his back and held him in place. They both knew it was a mistake. Stiles didn't care. He pulled himself up to close the space Danny had created, bypassing his face and going for the neck. Danny's throat vibrated against Stiles' tongue, making Stiles proud that could elicit such things.

“I love you,” Danny moaned, shifting his weight and his hold so that he was looking at Stiles again.

“No you don't,” Stiles retorted, reading Danny's eyes. “At least, not yet. But it's okay. You will.”

Danny kissed him against, leaning back and pulling Stiles up. It amazed Stiles how flexible the man was. Maybe there was something to the exercise thing. They somehow ended up switching places, which was probably better since Stiles was the lighter of the two.

“Are you ready?” Danny asked, intertwining his fingers with Stiles'.

“Ready?” Stiles mind started to go into panic mode. Had he promised to do something and forgotten already?

The thoughts fled his mind when Danny kissed him.

“I want you to fuck me,” Danny told Stiles as he caressed the man's face with his free hand.


	16. Chapter 16

Even though he was distracted by his vanishing roommate, Scott dutifully met Braeden at the coffee shop for breakfast, where Cora was coincidentally working and acting extra smug as she took his order.

“Did I do something different?” he asked his girlfriend as they waited for their coffees.

“No, she just got some news. Which is why I wanted to meet you here. And I guess Peter hired a part time baker because people were complaining about the lack of sweets. Nothing vegan-friendly, though,” Braeden told him nervously. Scott was worried, because Braeden was rarely nervous around him anymore. She was the definition of fearless.

“Is there something wrong? Are you sure you're not sick?” Scott reached out to feel her forehead. Leaning back, Braeden stepped away from his hand and shook her head.

“Scrubs, listen, I'm gonna tell you, but I need coffee first.”

With a light smile, Scott let his hand drop. He waited in silence, bouncing on his feet and telling himself that whatever she had to say was good news. She would've said it already if it were bad. The suspense was just part of the surprise. He didn't believe a word of it.

After they'd gotten their coffee, and Braeden got an assurance that Cora hadn't spit in Scott's, they sat at one of the tables and stared at each other. He wanted to say something to break the ice. However, Scott stayed silent due to fear of interrupting her when she did finally decide to speak.

“My blog is being published,” she finally said. A small but radiant smile was on her face. Scott leaned over the table to kiss her, and she nodded her consent and met him part of the way.

After they separated, she drank her coffee and he congratulated her. “That's awesome. Is it a collected edition? Let me know when it goes on sale so I can buy a copy.”

“It's being published in Norway. Apparently, some big website there linked to it last week and my traffic exploded. I've been getting offers for days, and I finally accepted one. There's talk of a movie.”

“A movie?” Scott scratched his head, trying to remember. “Is this the news to were alluding to last week? This is great, Braeden. I'm so proud of you. If I were allowed to read your blog, I'd say you deserve it, but as it is I'm just gonna be happy for you,” he told her with a wink. He was legitimately excited for her.

“But they want me to fly out there and promote it for two months. Apparently, a black woman writing about hipster things is so novel there that even talk shows want to interview me. The publisher is paying for everything, but I have to leave here. I have to leave you.” Braeden cast her eyes downward. “And, if I understood the broken English over the phone correctly, it's you I have to thank. It was my short series about my adventures as 'Elise' that got me recognition. That's what the title of the book is gonna be.”

Feeling oddly proud of himself for contributing in some way to her success, Scott puffed out his chest. “Well, you're welcome. I guess. I hope you have fun out there, and bring me home some cool souvenirs. What would a souvenir from Norway be, exactly?”

“Probably something involving polar bears. I don't know. I suck at geography.” Braeden took another sip from her coffee before looking directly into Scott's eyes. “I'm only going to do this once, but I want you to know that if this does get huge like they're predicting, it'll probably lead to a lot of travelling. And I won't blame you if you want to just quietly end things now and not be sucked into wherever this will lead.”

“Lots of writers do press tours and manage to stay in happy relationships,” Scott pointed out, draping his arm across the table and playing with the hem of her sleeve. “I don't want to break up because your dream came true. Even if you're gone for six months, I'll be here reading articles on you through Google translate. I'll wait for you, Braeden. If anybody is worth it, it's you.”

She started crying, dabbing at her eyes with a paper napkin with one hand and holding onto Scott's forearm with the other. “Thank you, Scott. I just... thank you. You don't know what it means to hear you say that. And my last name is Morrell. You've deserved to know for awhile.”

“And you deserve all of this. When do you leave? I'm throwing you a celebratory party. And I won't listen to any objections!” Scott told her. “Well, okay, I'll make Allison do it because she would kill me if I did it on my own and she's probably the better choice, but still. Do you want a big thing or just friends?”

“Just a small thing will be fine, Scrubs. Promise me no more than ten people.”

“I don't even think I know ten people, to be honest.” Scott finally turned his attention to his coffee. “Are you sure she didn't spit in it? Because I really don't think she likes me.”

“She doesn't like you,” Braeden sighed. “But she's my oldest and dearest friend, even if she is kind of a bitch, so I can't exactly dump her over a guy. Not even wifey material like you.”

“I'm wifey material?” Scott boasted, pushing his coffee to the middle of the table. “I do believe that's the kindest thing anybody has said about me.”

“Keep it up, and I may just make an honest woman out of you someday,” Braeden promised from behind her cup of coffee. “Until then, though, how do you feel about being my mistress?”

“I've let you have the milk for free already, what kind of lady would I be to start charging now?” Scott flashed a dirty grin at Braeden. She spit her coffee all over the table.

“Hey!” Cora yelled at them.

Braeden was already mopping the mess up with napkins, laughing her head off.

TW

Stiles hadn't really noticed how cold Danny kept his apartment until he stood in the middle of it trying to towel himself off. At least the shower had been nice and warm, if a little crowded.

“You're shivering,” Danny observed, wrapping his arms around Stiles' midsection. He kissed the back of his neck, and Stiles leaned back into him. The warmth from Danny's body helped alleviate the cold, albeit only slightly. “I could plug in a heater or something, but I have to keep it cold because of the computers.”

“Could you?” Stiles resisted the urge to completely melt into Danny's embrace. Even though they'd finally had sex, as evidenced by the condom wrappers on the floor and the still open bottle of lube on the nightstand, there was still something there between them. Danny was still holding something back.

Danny removed the towel he'd draped around his waist and wrapped it around Stiles' shoulders. Unlike Stiles, who had at least put his boxers back on, Danny hadn't dressed at all after their shower. Stiles appreciated that. He sat on the couch, covered by two towels, and watched the naked man dig through several boxes. After a few minutes, Danny produced an underwhelming space heater the size of a box of instant oatmeal.

“It's California. We're never gonna need anything heavy duty,” Danny explained to Stiles' disappointed face. He sat it on the coffee table, blowers pointed directly at Stiles, and reached for one of the half a dozen extension cords strewn across the floor. Something was said about an insanely high electric bill. As soon as the heater was running, Danny stood and looked down at himself. “I should probably go put something on. Give me a sec.”

“Don't hurry on my account,” Stiles teased, only partially serious. He huddled in front of the heater as best he could, pulling both towels tighter around his body. “How are you not cold? I mean, damn.”

“I'm used to it. Like I said, the computers don't handle heat well. They tend to like to break if they overheat, and that gets expensive. And the landlord also assured me that this was the coldest apartment in the building during the summer.” Danny pulled a pair of pyjama bottoms out of what looked to be a dirty clothes hamper. He smelled them, shrugged, and them put them on. Stiles was both grateful Danny didn't grab a shirt and grossed out by what he just saw.

After Danny had joined him on the couch, and he'd adjusted the heater so that it stayed on him, Stiles wormed his way back into Danny's arms. He laid his head on Danny's chest and listened to his heartbeat. “Thanks for last night. For remembering, I mean.”

“It's fine. I've bottomed before, and you weren't half-bad,” Danny snorted, driving Stiles to slap his arm in protest. Then Danny got a little more serious. “I just didn't want to pressure you into something you aren't comfortable doing. And even if you're never ready to try bottoming, that's okay. There are plenty of ways to have sex.”

“Does this... are we back together?” Stiles wondered, his eyes locked onto the dial on the top of the heater. All he wanted was a label on whatever he and Danny were doing. This relationship confused him. It probably confused Danny, too, but he'd initiated it. “Last night was awesome. It was really, really awesome, but we still have a lot of issues. I said some really messed up shit.”

Danny's fingers began to play with the hair on Stiles' stomach while he thought. “I don't know. I want to say yes. I do, but you're right when you say we have unresolved stuff to work through. A lot of it is ugly, and it's my fault. I'm sorry about how I treated you. It was uncalled for.”

“It was,” Stiles agreed, letting his eyes drift from the heater and his hand drift to Danny's thigh. Without any malice to his voice, he continued. “I know you don't love me. And before you protest or whatever, it's fine. I'm more into this than you are, and that you think it's moving too fast or rushing or whatever. And it probably is. But why is that a bad thing? If you have a problem with how I express things, just let me know. I'm not gonna pick up that you're unhappy unless you tell me. That's just a fact.”

“That was a lot of talking, but you have a deal,” Danny agreed with a chuckle. He reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the unopened beer he had given Stiles the night before. “Wanna toast to it?”

Scott's concerned face floated to the front of Stiles' memory. “I'm not supposed to drink. My meds and all that good stuff.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn't think. Yeah, of course booze and your meds don't mix. And your mom. Sorry.” Danny sat the beer back on the table and rested his hand on Stiles' chest. It was cold from the bottle, but Stiles didn't mind. “Is there anything else you're not supposed to have? I don't want to, like, accidentally give you an aneurism or something.”

“You'd have to ask Scott or Allison. He's the nurse, and she usually controls our diets with an iron fist,” Stiles laughed. Since Allison had moved out, the quality of his food had dropped significantly. “You know, she's moving back in soon.”

Nodding, Danny's five o'clock shadow scratched at Stiles' neck. Stiles didn't even know that he enjoyed the sensation until it was happening. “Oh, I know. Did you forget that those those women think of me as their personal, always on-call taxi just because I have a car? I already told Scott that I'd help move her crap back if they needed me.”

Stiles bit back a comment about Lydia. Danny hadn't mentioned her by name, but he wasn't going to let her ruin this moment for him like she did so many other things. He was going to have to learn to deal with her friendship with Danny. It was going to suck, but he knew it would be worth it.

TW

“It feels good to not be shut up in that goddamn apartment anymore. I'm not like you, Allison: I'm a fucking shark. When I stop moving I die. And oh my god, I've missed the wonders of nature!” Lydia stopped talking long enough to ogle a shirtless jogger passing them by. “Absolutely stunning.”

Allison laugh at Lydia's bravado. It'd been so long since the redhead had enjoyed anything. It was a nice change of pace. The moment Allison relented and agreed to a walk, Lydia grabbed the shortest skirt she owned. Her makeup was applied so expertly even Allison had trouble seeing the faded bruises.

“Whatever. Like you wouldn't do the same over a nice pair of tits. What do you think about those?” Lydia pointed at a woman across the street, who was clearly half-asleep and waiting on the bus. They were great boobs attached to a passable face, but Allison would never admit it. She wouldn't give Lydia the satisfaction.

“Stop it. She might hear you,” Allison chastised, bumping Lydia's shoulder with her own. “I talked to Scott. His girlfriend Braeden, you know her, right? Anyway, she has her first book being published or something. I couldn't understand half the things he was saying on the phone. He volunteered me to throw her a party. A last minute congratulatory party.”

Lydia nodded. “Yeah, I know her. She has terrible taste in clothes. And friends. And apparently men, too. Didn't know she was a writer, though.”

“What did we agree on where my roommates are concerned?” Allison sighed, knowing that Lydia would probably never stop mocking her friends.

“That they're simpletons who don't know that North and up aren't the same thing?” Lydia suggested. She rolled her eyes at the disapproval on Allison's face. “Fine, fine, no making fun of your friends while you're around. Sorry.”

“Thank you. Now, as I was saying,” Allison continued, trying to steer the conversation back on track, “I'm supposed to throw a party. Just a small thing, though. Intimate get-together or something. Can you help me? I'll let you be my plus one.”

“I don't have to eat your pussy after, do I?” Lydia laughed at the horror on Allison's face. “Bitch, you are too easy. Yes, I'll help you. And I'll even come, despite your obvious plan to play crappy music by bands nobody has ever heard of before. Just make sure Stiles isn't there, or at least doesn't talk to me. I just might pull a Jackson on his ass.”

For emphasis, Lydia held up her fists like a boxer and jabbed at the air. She looked at Allison with an expectant grin, then rolled her eyes at Allison's disapproval.

“Hey, my face was the one that got bashed in. I'll make jokes about it if I want to.”

“Doesn't mean I have to find it funny,” Allison argued, knowing it was fruitless. Lydia never admitted she was wrong because she never thought she was wrong. “I'll talk to Stiles about not harassing you, but I want you to promise me that you won't antagonize him just to see what happens.”

“I piss him off just by breathing. Let's not pretend he doesn't wish Jackson had killed me. Between Jackson and Stiles, men are looking more and more unappealing. Maybe I should just eat you out after this party. Do you need a new toaster?”

Allison yelled at Lydia to stop, slamming her hands over her ears and forcing her eyes shut. It did little to stifle Lydia's loud, raucous laughter. The other woman grabbed one of Allison's hands and pried to loose.

“If that embarrasses you, maybe you really do deserve the title of 'World's Worst Lesbian' that you hold so dear.”

“You are such a good friend,” Allison muttered sarcastically.

“Oh, believe me, I know. I'm the best,” Lydia agreed without a trace of irony.

TW

If they were alive, the walls would have bled at the litany of complaints Allison was making about how the upkeep on the apartment was while she was gone. So when someone knocked on the door Scott leapt at the chance to answer it. He fully hoped it was Stiles, who hadn't answered his phone all day. Maybe he'd forgotten his key, or he'd hooked up with Erica again, or something else that made sense.

Scott wasn't expecting Danny.

“Hey,” Scott said, leaning against the door. “I'm a little busy being yelled at. And I know it's a weird thing to ask, but have you seen Stiles in the hall today or anything? I haven't heard from him since last night.”

“Don't be rude!” Allison yelled at Scott. Danny raised an eyebrow when Scott cringed. “Danny, come on in. I heard about you and Stiles. Sorry it didn't work out. But you have perfect timing.”

“Run!” Scott warned as Allison shoved him aside and grabbed Danny by the arm and yanked him into the apartment.

“You aren't short, can you fix this poster that my inconsiderate roommates tipped and then never fixed?”

“But it's not even that far off the ground,” Danny observed nervously. Scott facepalmed and stepped back. Danny was a big boy, and it was time he learned why you never question Allison.

“I can tell. It's just that, what with my weak little X chromosome, I could never hope to fix it,” she half-yelled at Danny before wheeling back to Scott. “And you left this place a sty!”

“It's cleaner than it was when you left!” Scott told her before hiding behind Danny.

Allison looked Danny up and down, as if assessing if she could take him, then threw her hands up. “Fine, whatever, I'll fix it myself. I do everything else around here. What did you need, Danny?”

She didn't even wait for him to answer before stomping over to the poster and adjusting the frame. She stepped back, glared at the two men, then adjusted it a little further.

“So, Danny, what can I do for you while she's distracted?” Scott asked as they stepped back over by the door.

“Is this a bad time? A PMS time?” Danny whispered fearfully. They both watched as Allison ripped the sheets off the bed and threw them on the floor.

Scott shook his head. “Nah, she's just being Allison. It usually isn't this bad, though. Well, it is in the mornings before she gets her coffee, but I think she's trying to reassert her authority. Anyway, what did you need?”

“I just wanted to give Stiles back his phone. He left it behind when he left to get ready for work. I just found it a few minutes before I came over,” he answered sheepishly.

“Why do you have his cell phone?” Scott thought he already knew the answer, but he would rather look dumb than be presumptuous.

There was a moment of awkward silence. Even Allison had halted her rampage to see what Danny would say.

“We... reconnected last night,” he finally answered.

“So you're back together?” Allison asked. Scott also wanted clarification.

“Yeah, we are. I guess. Anyway, here's his phone.” Danny shoved the device into Scott's hands and excused himself.

There was a second between when Danny left and Scott followed him: a second that consisted of Allison pointing at Scott then at the door. He was more than willing to continue the conversation elsewhere.

“Hey, Danny, thanks for dropping this off. I'll make sure he gets it.” Scott closed his door and held the phone up. Then he slipped it into his back pocket as he followed Danny down the hall. “Hey, was the phone the only reason you came over? Because it didn't seem like it.”

“It wasn't, but I don't want to talk about it out here. I think Mr. Harris has been spying on everybody that talks out here.”

“He's still doing that? I completely forgot.” Scott shrugged and nodded at Danny. “We can talk about this at your place, unless you want Allison acting like a member of STOMP as a backdrop.”

“Yeah, sure, hang on.”

Danny offered Scott something to drink when they entered his apartment, and Scott accepted a beer. It was from some brewery based in Portland and was surprisingly thick.

“So, just to be clear, I'm congratulating you and Stiles on a reconciliation, yes?” Scott asked while Danny threw cords and other computer parts out from in front of the sofa and into random boxes lined up against the wall. When a path was cleared, Scott sat on the couch and Danny joined him.

“Yeah. We're still working out exactly what we are, but I think 'together' is an accurate enough word for right now,” Danny explained with a smile. “He is terrible at accepting rejection.”

“Is this a good thing, Danny? I'm trying to be the impartial observer here, but Stiles is still my best friend and he's been really messed up lately. And as much as I like hanging out with you, you did do a number on him and I don't want a repeat of that. Even if you technically didn't do anything wrong.” Scott sighed and stretched his arms over his head. “I'm just tired of seeing people I care about in pain.”

“I get that. It's why I wanted to talk to you. I've been meaning to since that night my drunk ass told you I was gonna break up with Stiles.” Danny bit his fingernails and spat them on the floor. Scott raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything about the action.

“You don't have to explain anything to me. We're all adults,” Scott offered as a way to diffuse any situation before it happened. He hoped Danny would take the out.

Of course, Danny didn't. Scott might as well have said nothing. “The other night, I was drunk off my ass and said something stupid to you.”

“No you didn't, Danny. In the interest of our friendship and whatever the hell your relationship is with Stiles, you said nothing. Okay?” Scott really didn't want this conversation.

“Are you sure?” Danny didn't look at Scott. “I mean, I just don't want things to be weird between us. Because eventually someone is gonna pick up on it, and I'd rather just deal with it now.”

The moments before Scott spoke seemed like an eternity. “I'll try to stop being weird if you'll just let it go. Seriously, man, nothing happened.”

“Thanks,” Danny told Scott, smiling as he finally looked at him. Despite himself, Scott smiled in return.

“You're welcome. You know, it isn't easy being this sexy. I have every woman and now apparently every man lusting after me. It's very draining,” Scott teased, poking Danny in the side.

“Dick,” Danny laughed. “But again, thanks. Maybe I should just follow Stiles' example and quit drinking altogether. Which reminds me, he said to ask you about things he can and can't have?”

“Well, he's not supposed to drink, which you seem to already know. And caffeine is a bad idea: we don't push that as hard as we should, though. He loves coffee and chocolate. And did you wanna come to a party I'm throwing?”

“Huh?” Danny blinked at Scott's last sentence.

“Oh, yeah, my girlfriend Braeden is gonna be leaving the country for a few months, and I'm kinda having a thing for her. Do you wanna come? It's just a small thing.”

“Sure, yeah, when is it? I mean, a benefit of working from home is that I'm usually free, but sometimes I'm less free than others.”

“I'll let you know when Allison tells me,” Scott promised with a grin.


	17. Chapter 17

“We throw a good party,” Allison told Lydia. She reached up and batted at one of the twinkling Christmas lights hanging from the ceiling. It'd taken two days and four trips to Goodwill to set everything up, but it all came together as nicely as it could.

“Yes, yes I do,” Lydia agreed as she hungrily looked at the new men in the room. They weren't people Allison knew personally, just folks Scott had invited through Stiles to fill out some quota. She did know the woman with them: Erica, of the disaster date. And of The Betas, the jazz group Scott had been obsessed with. It had been weird for Allison to open the door to see Erica and her men in tow, but apparently she knew Stiles. Neither would say how. Nobody would tell Allison how she knew Stiles, though the way Danny kept avoiding looking at Erica made her suspicious.

“Which one?” Allison sighed as she leaned against her wall, can of store brand cherry soda in her hand. Normally, Allison would never let it in her apartment, but this was a special occasion. And Allison had already told Lydia she could take any leftover drinks home.

“Can't I have both?” Lydia's greediness wasn't surprising. In fact, it amused Allison. Allison was relieved that Jackson hadn't broken her spirit. “If I had to choose, it'd probably be the black one, though. What's his name?”

Allison looked at the back of the CD case in her hand: the soundtrack for the evening was The Betas' self-titled EP, which Scott had insisted upon it before he even knew the trio themselves would be showing up. “It says his name is Vernon Boyd.”

“Boyd. Me likey.” Lydia licked her lips and finished her own soda. She handed Allison her empty can, almost making the other woman drop her own due to lack of hands, and adjusted her breasts. She looked back to Allison. “How do I look?”

“Like you're about to eat that poor man alive,” Allison admitted, an amused lilt in her voice.

Lydia's face lit up. “And with that, you've made my night. Let me go introduce myself to one Mister Vernon Boyd. And maybe his tall friend, too. If they're lucky.”

Allison tossed Lydia's empty can into the nearby cardboard box they'd set aside for the recyclable aluminium. She scanned the room, watching her friends talk with their friends. So far, Stiles and Lydia had happily pretended that the other did not exist. The detente seemed to be working better than she had planned.

She caught Braeden's eye and raised her can to the woman with a smile. They'd already done the congratulations when she first arrived, with her angry looking friend Cora in tow, and now Braeden was trying to chat with the guests while Scott followed her around like a puppy. It was adorable. Allison was reminded of when she and Scott were still together and he'd do the same thing with her.

“You did a great job,” Danny commended Allison as he threw his empty can in the box and grabbed a new one from the ice-filled tote she was guarding. “Really, this place looks great.”

“You hung the lights, Danny. And all I did hang the sheets over the walls so that my shit wouldn't get damaged by the person who would inevitably get drunk,” Allison reminded him before taking a sip of her soda. Really, she didn't like the stuff, but it was something to do.

“But there's no alcohol here. You made sure everyone knew, ad nauseam, that this would be a dry party. Hell, I'm shocked you didn't do cavity checks at the entrance.”

A snort preceded her next sentence. “The night isn't over. One whiff of booze, and Stiles won't be the only one shoving a hand up your ass tonight.”

Danny burst out laughing, and everyone in the room looked at them. Allison nervously waved to the room before elbowing Danny in the side. He straightened himself up, nodded to the congregation, and then fetched a second can from the cooler. Everyone else returned to their conversations, except for Stiles who was clearly waiting on his boyfriend.

“The lemon-lime stuff is caffeine free, right?” Danny asked Allison as he examined the nutrition label.

“Yes, it is.”

“Thanks.” Danny flashed her a smile that was all dimples, and for a moment she almost wanted to be bisexual. Almost.

He walked back to Stiles, who was trying very hard not to look at Lydia. Allison shook her can and was annoyed that it was still half full.

Soon enough, someone else sauntered over to Allison and she began to wonder if it would become a trend. Everyone wanted to pluck the wallflower.

“Hey,” the white guy from Erica's group said as he smiled at Allison. She noted that he had pretty teeth, then quickly lifted the CD case back up to look for his name.

“Isaac?” she guessed from process of elimination.

“Yeah, Isaac Lahey. And you are?” He held his hand out, a confident grin on his face.

Allison stuck the CD into his hand. “I'm Allison. Would you mind signing that for my friend?”

He stared at the CD, then Allison, then looked over his shoulder where Erica was talking to Stiles and a really uncomfortable Danny. “Um, I would, but I don't have a marker or anything.”

“I do,” she told him, reaching into her pocket and producing a black permanent marker. She'd used it just before the party to cover a scuff mark on her black boots. “His name is Scott, if you want to personalize it.”

“Uh, sure, I'd love to,” Isaac told Allison as he took the marker from her. “So, are you and this Scott together? Or would you mind getting a drink with me after this party is over?”

Chuckling lightly, Allison shook her head. “Sorry, but you're not my type. I'm gay.”

“Oh, sorry,” Isaac told her as he handed the marker and CD back to Allison. “I'll just... I'm gonna go over there.” He pointed in a random direction and walked away, and she stifled a snort. She didn't want to be rude to the poor guy, but it was funny. Lydia was rubbing off on her.

Tired of standing on the edges and everyone coming to her, Allison walked through the room and joined Stiles and Danny. Scott and Braeden were now talking to Erica, and Isaac had taken to trying to hit on Cora. Cora looked like she was barely restraining herself from getting violent.

“This party sucks,” she told them when she reached them. Danny shrugged, but Stiles nodded in agreement.

“Especially the guest list,” Stiles added. Danny and Allison both gave him disapproving looks. “What? I'm not saying it to her!”

“Would it be rude of us to leave?” Danny asked Allison with a tired sigh. “I'm getting sick of being a referee. And I kind of agree about the guest list.”

Allison noted Danny's eyes flicking over to Erica when he spoke. There was a story there, but she'd get it later. She was more concerned with not dying of boredom.

“Go. I'll tell Scott something. I don't know what. He's so far up Braeden's ass he probably won't notice, anyway,” she grinned as he put a hand on each man on pushed them towards the door.

Stiles bowed as Danny waved, then they exited the party, passing by Lydia and Vernon on the way. A snarl formed on Lydia's face, then vanished when the two were gone. At least the two having a fist fight was no longer a concern.

“Where did they go?” Scott asked, surprising Allison as he walked up behind her. She jumped in shock before spinning around. Braeden wasn't with him: she was off with Cora and Isaac had slunk over to Erica.

“Lydia was getting to Stiles by, you know, existing. I suggested they leave to preserve the peace.”

“You aren't having fun,” Scott noted, slipping his arm around Allison's shoulder. “You put a lot of work into this, and you aren't enjoying it. Sorry.”

“It's fine,” she lied, laying her head on his shoulder. It was always nice when Scott held her. It was comfortable and familiar and reminded her of happier times. “I just don't think I'm cut out to be social, unlike you and Stiles.”

He scoffed and led Allison to a corner away from the rest of the people. Braeden looked over at them, smiled at Scott, waved to Allison, then turned her attention back to Cora.

“Allison, Stiles and I are not social. Aside from you and Braeden, the only people here that I know hate me. And he actually had to leave to keep from starting World War Three. This party was supposed to be about Braeden, but...”

“But the only people here who know Braeden are you and her grumpy friend Cora?” Allison finished for him. He nodded and she rolled her eyes. “Scott, what did you expect when you were so desperate for people to come that you wanted to invite Greenberg?”

“You vetoed that, though,” he pointed out, letting his arm drop from her should and fall to his side.

“That's because I hate him,” Allison shrugged. “I swear, Braeden better be home for your damn holiday party at the hospital to be your plus one. Because if I have to go as your date yet again and he says one word to me I'll kill him.”

She was only half joking, but Scott laughed at her anyway. “He's isn't that bad.”

“He is the antichrist. That is not hyperbole,” Allison sighed, hunching her shoulders and crossing her arms. She looked over at Erica, who was chatting with Vernon while Lydia flirted with Isaac. The switch in men didn't surprise Allison, she just wondered which one would be going home with her.

Erica looked over at Allison and their eyes met. Both women looked away. They were clearly equally embarrassed by how their brief foray into dating had gone.

Unusually perceptive, Scott nudged Allison. “Am I wrong, or did you two have thing not long ago?”

“We had one date. One. And it was a mess,” Allison recalled. Then she remembered she had a soda in her hand and took a drink, and handed the CD in her other hand to Scott. “Here. I got you an autograph from the white one.”

“Thanks?” Scott took it and set it on a nearby flat surface. “What's wrong, Allison?”

“This just isn't me. I miss when all I had in life was you and Stiles, but you both have other lives now and I'm just stuck here doing the same thing day after day.” Allison finished her can and threw it on the floor. Scott looked at her but didn't say anything. “What the hell am I even in therapy for?”

“Listen, you are no more stagnant than Stiles or me. Yeah, he's dating Danny, but who knows what those two will be doing next week? They are the definition of a hot mess. And Braeden's best friend is probably plotting to hire a hitman to take me out. Besides, you do have a life outside of your boys.”

“Oh?” Allison cocked an eyebrow and gave Scott an amused but curious smile. “And just what would that entail?”

Scott looked over at Lydia, who was feeling up Vernon's arm and nodding at whatever he was saying. Erica had made her way back over to Braeden and Cora, and Isaac was sulking in a corner. Allison could relate to him.

“Well, for starters, you managed to befriend Lydia and take care of her without any bloodshed, so to speak. Wait, that sounds really douchey...” Scott frowned and scratched at his hairline. “You know what I mean. You literally did more for Lydia than everyone else in this building put together.”

“Yeah, I just really wish you and Stiles had told me about Danny being an ex-con before that first night. You know, when I freaked out and locked myself in her bedroom.”

Scott shook his head and stared at Allison. “We did tell you. Well, Stiles claims did. He told me that he told you, anyway. It was after your first therapy appointment. Did he tell you?”

Allison rubbed her temples and tried to remember. “Oh my god, I think he did. How the hell did I forget that? Now I feel even more like an ass about that. At least Danny is cool about it. Oh, by the way, is he still in love with you? Are you two gonna elope and get two cats and live in a high rise apartment?”

“He wants a yorkie, you insensitive bitch.” Scott playfully kicked at Allison and she playfully slapped the back of his head.

Before he could retaliate, Braeden walked over to them and had wrapped herself around Scott's arm. “Do you mind if I steal him from you?”

“Steal? Please, I'll pay you to take him off my hands,” Allison joked with a wink. Braeden thanked Allison for the party and led Scott back over to Cora, who seemed to look more and more pissed off with every step Scott made.

Kicking her empty can away, Allison walked over to Isaac. He was sitting on the floor watching Lydia and Vernon flirt. Erica was nowhere to be seen.

“Mind some company?” Allison asked. Isaac patted the floor at his side, so she slid down the wall and joined him. “So, are you joining me in the wallflower club? It'll bring our membership up to two.”

“I guess,” he shrugged, not really looking at Allison.

“Sorry about earlier. I was being kind of a bitch,” she apologized, holding out a hand. “Isaac, you said? Let me do a proper introduction. I'm Allison. I'm Scott and Stiles' roommate.”

“Isaac. I'm Erica and Boyd's roommate and sax player,” he told her as he shook her hand. “I literally have no idea why we're here. Just because Erica banged one of those guys who left, we get an invite to a party where we know nobody and they play our music. It's weird. No offence.”

“Don't worry about it,” Allison assured Isaac as she put two and two together. So Stiles had slept with Erica. It was probably during the half hour he and Danny had been broken up, but it still explained why they were being awkward around each other. Stiles really needed to just settle down with Danny and stop being a whore. It was bad enough that he'd been in the most one-sided love triangle ever that ended in a murder, but now he was hooking up with Allison's sorta ex.

“So, you live with two guys, but you're a lesbian? That has to be an unusual setup.”

“Don't you live with another guy and a woman?” Allison stated, the parallel obvious. “I would imagine the dynamic is similar.”

“This is a point that you have,” Isaac agreed thoughtfully. “I'm assuming the guy who has been with the guest of honour most of the evening is Scott?”

“The brown one? Yep. That's my Scott. Stiles was the white guy who left earlier with the tall Hawaiian.”

“Boyd is the one who is chatting up the hot redhead. Erica is in the bathroom right now. I get the feeling you two know each other.” Isaac didn't sound like he was judging Allison, just stating a fact.

“We had a date. It didn't work out,” Allison shrugged, hoping she came off more nonchalant than she felt. “I think we're on good terms.”

“Are you the chick Erica hooked up with last month after one of our gigs? I thought you looked kinda familiar.” Isaac snapped his fingers in recognition. Then his face kinda drooped. “Oh, yeah, I heard about that.”

The conversation kinda died and they just sat together in silence until Erica appeared. She gave Allison a nervous smile, which she returned, then grabbed Isaac's hand and hauled him to his feet.

“Thanks for having us,” Erica said to Allison, then she repeated the same to Scott and Braeden. “Isaac, can we go home? I'm feeling kinda tired.”

He looked at her, then gave Allison a sympathetic face. “Yeah, we can. Hey, Boyd, we're taking off!”

Vernon shook his head at them, but Lydia voiced his answer. “Yeah, Boyd is gonna be a little busy tonight. Allison, crappy party, but if you need help cleaning up tomorrow just call. I'll help if I'm not too sore.”

Allison didn't think she'd ever seen a black man get as red as Vernon Boyd did.

All four left at the same time, which left just Scott, Braeden, and Cora to keep Allison company. Cora looked around the empty apartment, said it was lame, then glared at Scott and followed the others out. For the tenth time that night, Braeden apologized to someone for Cora's behaviour. She gave Scott a deep kiss and told him to have a good night, since Cora was her ride.

“See ya.” Allison waved to Braeden, getting one in return.

After the apartment was empty of all party goers, Allison looked up at Scott and sighed.

“Your party was a bust.”

“The party was fine. The guest list was lacking. We probably shouldn't have invited Stiles' one night stand and her friends. Even if I am a fan,” Scott said, acting as if it were a revolutionary idea. “And I think Cora might have planted a bomb under our bed. She really hates me and I have no idea why.”

“Probably because you're annoying,” Allison teased. She groaned as she lifted herself to her feet. Sitting on the floor was clearly a thing she wouldn't be able to do much of anymore: a reminder that she was no longer a young teenager. “At least Stiles behaved.”

“He left,” Scott argued with a shrug. He began pulling sheets down from the walls, so Allison helped. “We should probably have Danny help us get the lights tomorrow.”

“You are a midget, and I'm too old to be climbing on furniture,” Allison acknowledged regretfully. “I was wrong. You aren't more social than I am. You're just as terrible at it as you ever were. I don't know how, but you just lucked into Braeden.”

Scott nodded sagely, helping Allison fold the first sheet. “Pretty much. She is so out of my league. You have no idea.”

“Well, Braeden and I have that much in common.” Allison smirked as they finished folding the sheet. They dropped it onto the floor and moved onto the next one. “I'm glad you're happy. Really. She's great and you deserve someone like her. And I'll check under the bed for explosives before we go to sleep.”

“Thanks. For everything.” Scott blinked at Allison before sighing. “You knew, didn't you?”

“Knew what?” Allison asked, even though she did know what he was likely to say.

“That I was still in love with you until Braeden came into my life.”

“Oh.” She smiled at Scott warmly, letting her half of the sheet drop to the floor unceremoniously. Then she walked on it until she could hug Scott. Allison put everything she had into it. She ran one hand up and down his back and spoke into his ear. “I knew, Scott. And it was okay. You're my friend. As much as I love Stiles, and I love that kid to death, you are my best friend. It makes me happy to hear that someone else means as much to you now as I did then.”

“You'll find someone,” Scott assured Allison when they broke apart, his hands holding hers. “There is a woman out there who will love you as much as I did, one you can love back.”

Allison shook her head. They'd already had this conversation, multiple times, but she wasn't as strong then as she was now. Scott had been right when he pointed out that she wasn't the same person she was even a month ago. She'd befriended Lydia Martin, and the old Allison wouldn't have been able to do that. The old Allison would have kept lying to herself, blaming her parents for all of her problems.

“No, Scott, I won't. You ruined me. You loved me so completely that nobody else has been able to compete, and they never will. But it's okay, because even if I can't have the sex, I still have you. You and Stiles, and now I probably have Braeden and Danny and Lydia and it's okay that it's all platonic. Because until I can find out why I can't connect with anyone else the way you do with Braeden, I have plenty of it to carry me.”

“That's very Lifetime movie of you,” Scott laughed playfully, beaming at Allison. “It was a great party.”

“It was a shit party with shit music,” Allison lied, not even caring. “But the parties will get better, and we'll get better. When does Braeden officially leave?”

“A couple of weeks. She'll be gone for two months. At least. It could be longer if her book gets a wider distribution. I guess they're trying to get it into the German and Austrian markets. It could be the new 'Eat, Pray, Love' or something,” Scott boasted, swelling with pride.

“That movie was terrible,” Allison observed. “Want me to get the laptop and try to find Braeden's blog? If she hasn't taken it down, that is. Sometimes publishers do that.”

“Nah, I'll wait for the English or Spanish translations. Or maybe I'll learn whatever language it is they speak in Norway.”

Allison slapped Scott on the arm. “It's Norwegian, you dolt. How your stupid ass graduated from high school, let alone college I'll never know.”

He rubbed his arm and stuck out his tongue before replying. “At least I graduated from college, unlike the great dropout here.”

“I get you for that, McCall. You and your little dog, too,” Allison threatened before busting out laughing. “I think I want to go back, though. To college, that is.”

“Where did this come from?” Scott asked. They went back to folding the sheet they had been standing on. “This is literally the first I've heard from you about school in over a year.”

“Just now,” she confessed, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “I want to start looking into grants and part time classes I can take when I'm not working. I used to know who I was, who I wanted to be. I lost that: we all did. And I don't want to be like Stiles: I don't want to find myself in someone else. Allison Argent needs to complete Allison Argent. And I don't need to run to my daddy for approval or validation anymore.”

“You know that it will probably drive you insane, right? Do you even have a major in mind?” Scott was asking the questions Allison hadn't even asked herself. He wasn't trying to bring her down, just keep her grounded. She appreciated it.

“I'll come up with one. I'm not even thirty yet, Scott. I have forever to figure out just who I am and what I want. But for today, for this moment, just knowing that I want more is good enough.”

“And now we've moved onto the Hallmark movie portion,” Scott laughed. Allison balled up her portion of the sheet and threw it at his head.

“Dick!” she yelled before initiating a slap fight that she easily dominated. When they were done, they were breathing heavily and smiling. Allison walked past him and to the bed. She reached under it and pulled out a box. “No bombs!”

“Shut up,” he told her.

Allison opened the box and pulled out a new scarf. Lydia had given it to her just before the party as a thank you gift. She wrapped it around her neck and modelled it for Scott. He clapped and whistled appreciably.

“What do you say we go interrupt whatever sexcapades Stiles and Danny are having and guilt trip them into treating us to dinner? You can whine and complain about how you missed them at the big party.”

“Why, Miss Argent, I like the way you think,” Scott agreed as he raised his eyebrows and grabbed a scarf from the top of the dresser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are: the end of the fic. I felt it was necessary to tell the entire finale from Allison's POV because Scott and Stiles dominated most of the story itself. Poor Allison wound up being a supporting character to Lydia's subplot, and that's my failing as a writer. Hopefully, this chapter rectified that at least a little.
> 
> And I know that this fic has had more than a little controversy, but I appreciate everyone who stuck with it. I like to think that fanfic can be more than just fanservice and treat it as such. I wanted to deal with actual things like death, grief, abuse, mental illness, codependency, and who knows what else. How successful I was on that is up to you guys reading. :-)


End file.
